The clouds had been threatening thunder for days.  They rolled in the sky with their malice building every moment that they continued to hold in the rain.  Stretched below them, an endless sea going as deep as forever could go long.  It was as clear as glass with only the slightest ripple signaling its deceptive appearance.  Below the surface, energy wound through every molecule in a tumultuous and festive rhythm.  If you could touch the water's face, you could feel the pulse of life through your fingertips.

But I could not touch it.

Between the sea and the clouds, moments were still and sat heavy like the oppressive heat that fills a humid, hazy afternoon in late summer.  Thoughts moved… slower.  Sounds wrapped around you, taking long enough for you to realize it was happening before it was through.  

And there, that is where I stretched each limb for opposite corners and existed.  Suspended between a heaven in turmoil and an abyss of color and chaos.  I was timeless, frozen out of the balance – in separation.  Sluggish thoughts fought to free me but they grasped to whispers of activity with broken fingers.  And in one moment, they took hold.

I felt the vibration in my bones before I heard it.

The thunder exploded around me.
The tension broke.

I fell in.

He stepped out the door and                                                          From­ behind the door, she put one hand
looked towards the face                                                             ­                         to the glass and watched him
behind him.                                                             ­                                                         burn into the night.    

Diamonds filled the sockets                                                         She weakly mirrored her own spark of life,
where eyes should have been and                                                 who pounded at the cool surface behind
from his smile poured the sun.                                                             ­                                                her eyes.

He waved a see-you-later wave, and from                                    Desperately, the spark tried to grab the
his fingertips trailed a shower of                                                                 attention of the star gliding away sparks.                                                          ­                                                                 ­              down the street.

He was alive and music sounded each                                         A pretty face, blanched with panic, and
time a foot struck the concrete.                                                              the word “Run!” forming on her lips.


But it was too late, and he was gone.  Her hand fell from the glass and her shoulders sagged.  Behind her eyes, her spark sputtered and sank to her knees, diminished.  She rested a cheek against the inside of the pupil and mourned the oncoming sounds of a broken heart - like the cracks that echo when ice splits across a frozen lake.

She turned out the light.

Look at me
Take my hand
Bring me outside

Don’t let go – it’s snowing.
Hold your breath – it’s silent.

With quiet steps, lead me under the pines.  Their shadows extend the night to forever.  As stone-still sentinels, they guard our midnight trek from artificial kitchen lights into the snowy abyss.

It smells cold in the woods.  That sharp scent that circles each nostril and creeps down the back of your throat.  Our skin tightens as it tries to shrink away from Jack Frost’s fingers.

Lungs burn as we exhale.  The silence breaks with a metallic ping as our breath freezes in winter.

It is one blink and it is a lifetime.  The trees fall away and small steps slip across a frozen lake that hides beneath a brand new blanket of snow.

The moon reaches through the clouds and the world erupts with light.  Each beam refracts off the ground beneath our feet and a billion falling snowflakes.  The night shimmers with life.

And there we stand.  Wrapped together in falling snow and life and the soundless night.  The clouds slowly wrap their hands around the moon.

Don’t let go – it’s snowing.
Hold your breath – it’s silent.

Look at me
Take my heart
Keep me close

Yesterday, I plucked up the planet and dropped it into a colander.  I shook it through, taking out all the ships and lifeboats, the yachts and canoes.  Putt-putt boats and blow-up rafts.  Every life vest and floating device was carefully removed.

Today, I cried for twenty-four years.  The oceans began to rise and the coastal towns fell off the shorelines.  Everyone fled the coasts, but it did not matter.  After twenty-four years the world was covered and all things green with life were drowned and flooded.  When my tears slowed, I scooped out each eyeball, wrung them out, and then placed them back into their sockets.

Tomorrow, the water will recede for twenty-four years before I find any solid ground.  When I do, I will crawl out from the sea and let the sand scrape at my body.  The tide will wash over me until I am sprawled out, absorbing the rays on my speck of land in this ocean-world.  

The sun will sink into my skin.  I will dry out.  My brittle remains will crack and flake away when the sea reclaims its only island.

Like the broken wing of songbird, my head hangs limply about my shoulders.  Bowed in resignation, I pay homage to powers I can no longer resist nor deny.  Reluctantly, I allow my skin to soak in this broken, gray home I’ve built for myself.  Like bathwater that’s gone cold, it offers no comfort; and like a tree’s sap, it clings to me.

My health has been stolen from this young body.  I have submitted; the flame of fight died long ago and the memory of its light has finally sputtered out.  With true darkness comes a plague baring the pit that grows in my gut and the lump that chokes the air from my throat.  And as my lungs catch fire, they scream for my heart – crying out for help.  A heart full of blood to put out the flames that lick their way up soft, pink tissue, but there is no relief to be found.  There is no heart full of blood, only a note that says, “Looking for greener pastures.  I’ll be sure to send a postcard.”