no words to describe the sound
of the rain coming down
but turning to ice before it even hits the ground
as a man walks through the storm
warm memories dancing inside of his mind
the shadow cast by the fire of children playing inside
he slips on the ice
falling to the ground in still motion
a frozen shard of time
ever lasting but ever fleeting
so much detail in a small glimpse
distinct and yet impossible to describe

where are you going, asked the owner by the door
I don’t know, said the man as he clambered to his feet
where are you coming from
the man paused and thought for a moment
from a life of regret, he replied
the owner sighed
why don’t you come inside

it was warm
light cast from the fireplace
I sat in the comfy black chair
breathing in
and breathing out
old novels lined the shelves
he returned from the back room
a cup of coffee
I took a sip
but something wasn’t right
I began to feel dizzy
no, something wasn’t right at all

chains
darkness
the soft whir of a motorized saw
what appeared to be a heaven
was only the face of hell

men come and men go
by the bookstore
through the blizzard of reality
exploring the halls of their sanity
crying out in the darkness
but no one will hear
the question of existence only lingers
in the fading memory of the mirror
no hope
only silence for us now