Tag Archives: #thevoid

Time forgotten

Photo by Brigitte Tohm from Pexels

Good night from here dear blogosphere. Didn’t want those of you newer to reading my work to miss this gem from the beginning days of Songs for Now. Enjoy & sweet dreams. đź’ś


 Ⓒ Niliema Karkhanis

Love which sews you

Image for post

Is nothingness
A whole world of unreality

A map

A map


over a blough

the air spins 

lake air 

over a treasure

a memory


of value

a story

they will all be here one day

to remember something forgotten

buried over & under the tide

running inside the waves

the tide

is a constant



she followed the map she had found inside the wall during a recent renovation. it was done by hand & it was simply made but detailed. having recently moved into this house, she didn’t exactly yet feel familiar with the immediate environs.

She walked carefully along the dirt path through the trees,aiming to suss out the bumps & roots, bracing her limping gait on the cane & in the path itself. she stretched her feet & made each step with intention.

there were parts on the map which described the way the forest was, where there was an old, broken tree bent down, now a shelter for moss & lichen.

it was just beyond one bent tree,she came upon where the map led to.

There was a small house there, oddly not far from many things, yet completely hidden. It was late spring & the forest was blooming with the perfumes of wildflowers wafting on the breezy forest air.

she entered the small house & was surprised to find it was as if it was inhabited in the present.

It was tidy & there was a floral blanket on a bed, a table, 2 chairs & a small kitchen all in one room. Light streamed in through the big windows.

There was no one else in the small house. There was an envelope on the table. She set the map down & picked up the envelope. Inside was another map on a piece of torn brown paper.

She saw there was some coffee, water in a large jug & a gas stove. She was tired from the walk. Her legs & feet, sore. She boiled water in a pot & made the coffee in a press set out on the counter.

While the coffee brewed in the press, she sat at the rustic wooden table & studied the new map. this map led out to the nearby bloughs & indicated there was something buried there. She would spend a night in the small house & leave in the morning towards the water’s edge.

she poured herself the potent coffee into a small blue ceramic mug. As she sipped the coffee, she felt the pain in her body leave her. 

She laid down to sleep contemplating her morning journey.


© Niliema Karkhanis

The void is a friend

Photo by Francesco Ungaro from Pexels

What day forgets itself entirely?

What night glows more than a city night?

Long walks

Beautiful darkness Potential death

Bugs buzz around the streetlights

Around the streetlights


Weary eyes pass them by 

Walking on curling hands

Wonderfully tempting the night

With glitter & dyes

Oblivious oblivion

In the life of ghosts

Lifting on & across the planet to Jupiter 

& so forth

It wasn’t anymore

For the end was 

At the door

On an astrologer’s best guess

It was a house of ghosts

Not theirs anymore

© Niliema Karkhanis