Three

The overcast sky, cold and grey, mirrored the melancholy within me, barren of life or hope or emotion. Disoriented, I stepped outside to embrace and unite with the cold shroud, walking for miles with no sense of the past and the present, but fixated on exhausting the living body of my comatose soul. I drifted with the crowd unseeing and aimless, when a chilly wind blew across bringing with it a lost memory from the depths of time. My step faltered under the weight of the long-buried, now unshackled chain of memories that had extricated themselves from the formidable vault I had sealed in my grief; intensifying with each addition, they rose up to the surface until it had become a violent explosion of the past. Hot lava-like tears streamed down and warmed my stone-cold face, awakening me from the numbing coma that I had thrown myself into, to escape the torment of those shattered dreams. As I struggled to muster the strength to walk past the shadows of your precious memories, I heard my heart pounding in anticipation of your arrival – your thought had awakened the grieving, muted heart which was alive and beating but for a moment. I knew not if I should be glad for the ability to feel again, since the only feeling that engulfed me, was grief from all directions, unadulterated and unforgiving.

I turned around to walk home, weakened from the aftermath of the storm. The wishful dreams nurtured in my bosom free-reined and vivid, danced around me like glimpses of heaven, as they lured me astray from the worldly reality, into the blissful oblivion of our timeless existence.