As I walk through the muddied, bitter white, the darkness absorbs me. The moon is so bright but it pushes away from me. As if I’m undeserving of its comfort. The harsh winds cut my throat and slash the back of my neck. I shouldn’t be out here. Everything is telling me to turn back. I can feel the carcasses of the spring flowers beneath my feet, asking why do I crush them? The trees wailing high into the night sky swallowing up any chance of escape. Did I make a mistake? The soles of my shoes collide with the cold reality of bitter winter. It’s too late now. The night sky creeps further into oblivion, leaving no choice. No stars to wish upon for a way out, no clouds to hold the turbulence. The still sky rages and tortures me. Blinded by darkness, I see no semblance of a return. Solemnly walking through the muddied bitter white, I must be my own light.
Walk. Push. But right now, I see no end in sight.
