The town is covered in thick fog.
Walking through town, a familiar feeling of isolation begins to crawl up my spine.
Walking through the mist-filled shadows reminds me of something: an image, a powerful thought.
The sounds and phased images of a multitude of vehicles continue to pass me by, ignorant of my presence and blind to the world around them so fixated are they on their destinations.  
The bleeding soul of this dying world is unknown to the masses that spell our seemingly inevitable destruction.
There, it sounded; the tones of a local church bell. To some a call to worship; to others, a telling of the time; but, to most of the mist-shrouded inhabitants of this town, the noise is lost completely.
To a man devoid of hope, the toll of the bell is a mere reminder of all things lost.  
To my eyes, I see people falling, walking from nothing, through nothing, to nothing.  
It is true, there is no meaning in any of it aside from God.
The lights shining through the mist only illuminate so far.  
The more lights we have, the easier to see.  
Lights of love, why not shine?