Fragment Poem by Mark Heathcote

Even cobwebs are surplus to all our hunger and needs.
Feeding on the disparagement
Of loneliness.
The want, the need of needing forever more.
The cannibalism of emptiness
Gnaws at us all; eats us down to the bone.

Silence is imbued with regret.
Like a dew-lit web retracing the days
That has already been spent.
It is suspended until the moment it is touched.
Then the beauty and mystery realized is once and for all profoundly over.

In the feeding frenzy
Dispelled ingredients shatter.
Fragment, and we wonder
Were we ever really here?
Do we ever really disappear?