Eggshell cracked, yields yolk into freefall,
Shining bright like a little sun in the stainless-steel pan,
The translucence turns to white within seconds.
Yellow and orange candle flame burns,
Creating dancing shadows against the wall,
Giving life to the vase filled with flowers,
An illusion.
Almost as if wind sways them,
Not fire in the dark.
The darkness gives light to the invisible.
A witness to quiet happenings and those unnoticed by day,
A cat peeking out from behind a lamp post,
A convoy of possums walking an electricity line,
Lightening flashing across the sky in harsh abiding lines
An open apartment door inviting the cool breeze to break humidity of the day,
The outline of a person walking in moonlight, at one with the dark,
perhaps they are scarred blue.
Blue are the ocean waves.
Unrelenting saltiness pouring into the mouths of swimmers,
Screaming as they dash and splash,
Hair dripping, bathers glued to soaking bodies,
Too distracted with joy to realise the power of the ocean,
Not realising they could be pulled away from mainland with a second’s notice.
Into the white unknown,
You were once afraid of.
Flipped to comfort when you arrived and glimpsed how fragile life is,
And at once saw what was important,
Real life without the strings of obligations, gossip, and weight of other people’s unhappiness,
The winding roads, with burrows and holes,
The actual callings that make you lean forward,
The mornings to leap out of bed,
Pressing your foot on the accelerator even when you’re scared,
Because when you are near the white, the strings you held onto so fiercely fall away;
And you wonder why you ever held on.
Dominika Greinert
Box Hill North, VIC
