The Storm Approacheth
Darkness. It encroaches once more, shifting, writhing, ensnaring everything in its path. There seems to be no escape as it drains the color from all things. Rich, vibrant hues turn dull. Strength, courage slowly dissipate as though drifting away on an icy wind.
There is no turning back from this path, and it is with great trepidation and uncertainty that each step is taken toward an undeterminable destination. The battle between light and dark wanes; hope seemingly lost. Is it natural to feel so alone, so numb to much of what transpires with each passing moment?
Without warning the remaining light quickly fades, almost in retreat. Pure black, as though nothing is left, is all that remains in its stead. This is not unfamiliar territory, but it still brings an urgency and fear that feels new, unable to be shaken away or understood.
Howling evermore the wind gains momentum. Thoughts and emotions, unfettered, rage on, threatening to consume and destroy everything. Flaring pain from repressed thoughts suddenly flood all existence, serenity more a memory than anything hoped to be felt again. As though under an evil spell scars transform into open wounds, bleeding yet another time. This must be faced anew, though the strength to do so has long since been lost.
Suddenly, as though understanding the test at hand, a calmness falls quietly over the turmoil within. Escaping unscathed is impossible. Emerging relatively whole still has potential. The true question, is will the desperately needed companion be revealed in this time of angst before it is too late?
Deathly quiet, not even a breeze rustling leaves. This is the lull, the collective calm before the storm. No warmth, no icy chill, simply an uneasiness that cannot be shaken.
A long, silent breath escapes. The world continually grows more cold, less vibrant, and slowly seems to be fading into an inescapable, hollow shell of what it once was. No end in sight, no reprieve... can one ever break free?
To what extent is this taking hold? Is this a moment on this path that is life, or is this the beginning of a steady decline into self-destruction?
Without warning a sudden, wailing moan triggers the freezing grip of fear, rustling through the surrounding trees... cold enough to burn skin. The calm has passed, the time to fight for survival, to attempt to persevere, is now.
Breathing steadily, rhythmically, deeply...
The chill air gradually warms as the sun emerges; the earth shedding its nightly shroud once more. Darkness retreats temporarily. Just above the horizon rays of hope are visible, vibrant colors assaulting night's grey mantle.
Eyes close, breathing slows. The heart yearns to feel again, reminded by such a wondrous sight as sunrise that emotions still exist.