Pictures flash, unhindered–
most tattered, some slightly torn,
all a bit burnt around the edges. 

Though I do not comprehend why, I feel myself withering.
Torrents of tears overflow, the same way raindrops
cascade down a windowpane during a storm.
Tracing faint rivers down my cold cheeks,
drying salty upon my skin in the chill wind.
Leaving me trembling, shivering - with cold
longing for that distant flickering firelight –I fail to reach.

Faint voices call out, barely above a whisper,
I turn in all directions, trying to discern their meaning.
Listening intently, I stand frozen –straining to hear,
in the misty darkness, I hear them echo.
Try as I might –I cannot find my way to them.
Becoming frantic I panic –begin to run –blindly
into the darkness – falling into the abyss. 

Upon wakening, I am startled as I realize,
a bareness to my very soul has been revealed,
that I had not expected.

Shay White