The bows of sky in the sound of low tones, rolling over the horizon in clouds and they leave the sight of my dust filled eyes. The shade of summer storms across the distant fields. A distant storm that's never coming this way. Looming above is the Sun, every now and then reminding me to feel estranged. I am forbidden in this desolate place. I contradict the nothingness contained by the vastness of the desert. The dry land underneath would surely drink me. These lands would devour me. The Sun would watch and feast on the scent of the happening... Awakening. I feel a chill. I am lying on my back, and a white ceiling is playing sky. Outside, the sky is white. As is all. Through the haze of morning eyes, I watch the cold. I believed in this. It was too cold to be a dream. And yet, I'm surrounded by the same silence and low pitched noise I hear when I'm asleep. The sound of snow falling, the shattering of frozen words on the sidewalk. I would like it to stop, please!


---
| | | | | |