Flight of the Wedgetail

And where to go now ?. The wall that has kept back silence is beginning to dissolve and already that vast ocean of nothingness is slowly seeping into what holds you together. You could always wander back to those alleyways where bond stores wafted musty smells up through grates that you walked past on your way to school, or find a seat there in the acrid air of St Mary's as incense carried hymns up to the slaughter houses of the Lord. All nothing more, now, than exhibits in a museum of what each sense has put away to adorn some theme or narrative. And then there is here, whose borders blur and morph into gateways, all promising a view. Take one to somewhere. The fiery sunset giving praise to the glory of a star, the rapture of oceans, and the flight of a wedgetail riding high over a world waiting like a lover.