A Place Called Nowhere

• 

I caught a glimpse of baby’s breath. 

Bunches on top of bunches, 

The air perfumed with small grains of pollen. 

The sweet, 

wafting in the air. 

Somehow, rotten at the tips. 

The ebb and flow of consciousness. 

A trance, no breath.

My body sinking below the superficial. 

Deep dive, no thoughts. 

Continuous vacuum, 

Where am I?

I hear a voice echoing, 

Somewhere.

Birds chirping, 

A vortex. 

Not a care in the world,

Suspended in cycles of transitions.