Thoughts

The silence

I stood there out in the cold early morning air. There was hardly any wind, and I was exhausted. Another night spent lying awake. This morning was different however, for the full moon shone brightly upon my silhouette. As clouds rolled past the moon, it would be brighter and darker accordingly. And at that moment, I heard no man-made noise in my ears. I stood there, light-headed and drowsy, staring into nothing and everything in that one moment. The last thought I remember having was that of horror at the atrocities that have taken place here, there, and everywhere. It shakes me to my core to think about the very idea of the visions of my own two eyes that fateful night prior. As I have stated, I spent the night restless, staring at my ceiling and thinking. I can remember a horrid moment of consciousness like none other, it was as real as my hands typing at this very moment. However, I believe this brief period of horrid madness was simply an extremely realistic dream. That of which I don't remember falling into, or waking up from. I dislike every single moment the images I saw reveal themselves to me throughout my day. Popping in and out just as a phantom, or spirit, haunting the very soul in which had taken said spirit's life. Likewise, these images haunt my very soul with a deep-seated horror. It is this horror that I cannot simply convey with words, colors, or any form of expression for that matter. I can only imagine that a similar form of horror would overtake an astronaut whom has broken their harness and is watching as they float out into deep space, and certain death. There is nothing to be heard in space. Just silence.