The streets are cold, filled with icy caricatures
of empty bodies longing for soullight.
They walk hard, as if they just learned yesterday,
their heavy gaits trespassing on the freezing stones,
leaving shallow footprints embedded in the frost.

An orb of bright light appears and moves through the crowd,
darting here and there, and I can hear it call my name.
The orb hurries past me and I turn to chase after it,
but my feet are frozen to the pavement and I cannot move,
the orb zipping away as I my name disappears on the air.
And there, as I stand in the biting wind clawing at my bones,
the heaviness I feel of a life I could have lived,
I realise with growing horror that that was it,
that was my one chance of having my own soullight
and it passed me by and it was tantalisingly close,
and they say that your soullight only ever visits you once
and it sticks inside you and lights your path forever.
Forever yours, it would say to me in the dreams I had,
can’t wait for us to be together it would say to me.

I guess I’m going to be an icy caricature forever,
walking hard like I just learned yesterday,
no longer longing for my soullight to find me.
Heavy steps in the frost of a cold and lonely world.