Whispers from the grim reaper

Tearing apart the shreds of life

Shades of crimson, aquamarine, beige and a touch of gold brush across the milk-soft, blue canvas amongst the cotton clouds which took the shape of an infinite animals, but as for today a strange jackal which took my eyes by suprise , contrasting as much as black and white to the rest of the sky, an abhorrent speck of darkness amongst the pure light.

Diving deep into the ocean of memories, I vividly remember each footstep I took down that elegant mahogany staircase till the kangaroo-skin carpet to the room where my life and happiness rested, an aurora in sleep , so faint, so quiet. Yet when I opened that door, that opening to the livid black abyss of darkness and hell, the sight I saw was one I could never forget. One that allowed me into the dungeons of memory, me becoming his prisoner. One memory so painful it took the form of a pack of wolves from all sides, tearing all the flesh I had, till my soul and mind became a bloody wretch, it's misery as deep as the depths of deadly Tartarus .

Time seemed to be flying by with so much happening, for the nightingale sang and the cuckoo chirped, for the wind took its blow on the trees outside and the clouds could only become darker. For now the bright sun had nothing to shine about, hiding behind the clouds, wolves howling in my head. The world was spinning , how could this happen? The world for a moment went out of control, none accepting what truly happened. My knees fell, as weak as the rest of my body on the unstable ground, on the earth which could too not bear such an awful event. 

For a moment, everything stopped but the Phoenix song in my heart, sadder and more melancholy than the nightingale could ever pitch, as soft as the silk she wore. None could move, none could speak, for everything was momentarily dormant. Rivers of salty water ran down my cheek as i accepted the truth; my love, my life , my happiness was forever asleep