DecoherenceA Poem by JustPlainHere. . .The wind digs into the eternity of the space of the empty chair, scoops a portion of its silence only seconds apart from the sweep of it onto a bystander's brow, like the other dimensional host of the ghost of you in your world still there. Sometimes you were so still your wrist blending into the building's columns in the background when I squinted - the cigarette smoke falling around it like passing clouds So still, I think I could extract a portion of you from the air - the iterations of you staring into the space in which the wind is tossing. There, tucked by arrangement of wood - a frame of sky and bush, and lush, and curtain full of storm and shadow, howling a kaleidoscope of a sculpture of you. But the worlds don't interact they say. All I have is an engram of the vision of you in that world to be filed away. An engram of the ethereal you rising to heaven. Each one, for each loss and each version of me who knows - the grateful me giving a nod. A map of an ensemble of cells like a cratered moon and its star specked sky to each world firing in perfect synchrony of which I can overlay only over the Buddhist's Nirvana, the staccato of the long vibration in the single struck gong, the ritual of silence of the stoic's beaten path buried in the deep, deep forgotten green of the forest. Someone says that there are no probable worlds for the images that bleed from behind closed eyes, the inverse weight of wind in the emptiness that you still carry - no god particle, but there's a name for it in every world.
© 2026 JustPlainHereAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on February 7, 2026 Last Updated on February 7, 2026 AuthorJustPlainHereFLAboutPoets on life: “Oh, must we dream our dreams and have them, too?” ― Elizabeth Bishop “Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.&rdqu.. more.. |

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