The Day Before. (Undergoing Re-Writing as 01/11/22) (Sequences 1-4 finished)

THE IN-BETWEEN. THE COLD AND DARK WORLD. PART 1.

The In-Between. The Cold and Dark World. Part 1.

The council always decides. The council resides in this place that I find. It is covered in gold, in writings of God—depicted my man, rotting in vain. Painted on rock to be foretold, nothing behold but told in love.

A device of black, air thinning cold. A cold world lies beneath an edge of light. Imagination is lost behind its sight. It may not take flight, as it is tied to a path. A path of light, right, wrong and wrath. Where all is won, and nothing is gone. But just like this, it lacks.

But just like that; that and nothing more, it made itself flat. Time flew away, literally untied, and said goodbye—and it vanished away. Just like that—so left behind, it frayed. It should've stayed.

Cradle me now, or so I pray. Withstand stance, chance and maybe advance. But it seems we are here, once again, nevertheless. Together we're lost, morning frost. Covered in soft, undying thrusts. Tossed from the wind that gusts to the tired of rest, worn of know. The feel of less, the coming snow.

Where we know most is almost lost for none at all, as we are here—and they are there—and it was this night that we could care. For once and forever, we may share again.

The bear it stares, it's eyes are scared. Nose is red. Gazing hard. Stomping ground, shuffling snow. Pouting now, disappears.

Epic spaces, tall and void. Presences lurk, near and far. Fictitious imaginations, real to the touch, but fearless as such—in a sickened clutch. I feel the thrill, they are—they're real.

I fall back down. For end and forever never tie. Together we lie on the front-lines end of a changing tide, raging sides. A bellow of smoke shoots out from some pipes.

This reflection I see is deceivingly glee to tear apart my and soul—sew it shut, and leave me behind. For we tether the lost to the bounds of life, and in times of darkness we flee to their thoughts—we remember their minds—but it is our own fights that we each must win. From the very beginning, to the very end. Alone and cold, again and again.