The Icy Chill

Photo by: Carrie K. Hutchens

Photo by: Carrie K. Hutchens

The icy chill of winter, clinging beyond its time, mocks and dances against the lonely night of darkness where no friendly voice speaks and no hopeful hand rests.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

Cries begging for mercy race to the heavens, as man drags still another unwilling soul into the pit of vile corruption that seeks to crush and devour.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

A hopeful challenge sings against the confusion, with no one to listen and few to remember the days when the world was not encouraged to sink into the incomprehension of utter insanity.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

Madness and rage erupt into boiling lava of confused hate and lost reason, as the masses seek to feast upon the spirit of all others not they or theirs.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

A dream, or a nightmare, there was a moment… a moment somewhere within time… a moment touched with a vague sense of humanity and good purpose.

The chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embraces and suffocates.

Where… where did those moments of a dream go?  Did they travel far or just beyond the glimpse of a horizon hidden?

Did the chill… the darkness… the hopelessness embrace and suffocate all hope of a tomorrow to be as once was? 

The answers await within the night not present.  Only in a distant tomorrow will the truth be revealed to survivors of the icy chill that dances within the darkness where no friendly voice speaks and no hopeful hand rests. 

The saved or the damned?  Only they shall know as they emerge into whatever has become.

(c) 2015 Carrie K. Hutchens
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