The silence of being, the silence of loneliness, the silence of me….
Clouds, heavy laden, tinted ash, silver and taupe against the charcoal of the impending doom. Air tinged with chill, saturated with damp, creeping like clammy fingers stealing into the deepest depths to freeze the soul. The sound of life breath muffled against the wrapping of warmth.
But there is no escape from the truth….
With each step the cold, the damp, the icy biting fingers of mist whisper over and over, probing, reaching into the core, telling you that you are alone.
You are alone. You are all alone. Who cares? Who will notice if you were gone?
With each step, the grey wraps around, tightening its grip and pulling down, down, down. Over and over, the dank fog threatens to suffocate. The slate of the heaviness waiting to ensnare and exhaust life and tell you that you are alone, all alone.
Dismal light consumes.
Obsessive fear absorbs.
Despair reaches out.
Then the silent explosion roaring through the heavens, ignited by the laden grey bursting to be set free. And the lacy crystals flutter like silvery butterflies dancing and swirling. The ripples of icy filigree, flickering through the air catching the last remnants of daylight. Glittering, sparkly diamonds whirling and covering the world with a web of glossy spun sugar.
The world turns silvery, glistening white.
Crisp and cold, but silent. The silence of being, the silence of loneliness, the silence of me….
And the silence of me takes in the silence of the beauty of a world transformed.
For today I am alone, alone with that smile that says the first glimpse of winter snow.
And tomorrow? Tomorrow, I will build a snowman….
Inspired by: Writing Challenge: the Devil is in the Details