The darkness is coming
Or is it the future? This forward motion that keeps me turning, twisting, blinking, breathing
hurtling into the unknown.
What is this thing we have stepped into?
Life, sun, flowers, cool breezes; the serenity of peace and comfort of care
snow, shadows, bitter cold, threatening to divorce me from my very soul.
And who are we? Tiny creatures that think we are large
and large creatures that think we are small.
The snow reflects the sun and holds its own light.
The cool breeze becomes a tornado.
I walk along the sidewalk and take these things in, following where it may lead.
Beware the poisonous berries.