Cold

A ripple for every moment

Frigid sky scattered here and there. Shadows watch mountains who are not easily scared. Snowflakes fall as time stands still, while sun's warmth trembles under the treacherous chill. Depths run thin as the ice grows, and blue meets white in the blue shallow. Everything covered perfectly in a blanket, one that is cold and doesn't need to fake it.

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This journal entry has been tagged with:

• Driving
• Imagery
• Analogy

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Driving down the dark, solitary road a light appears in the distance. Small, indiscrete, harmless. The night is cool and the air softly runs over the fingertips so carelessly placed outside the window. Headlights catch only a glimpse of the road ahead before it quickly falls behind. Lines trace a boundless path traveled only cautiously, not strictly. Time, as it were, fades as quickly as the passing trees.

The light grows into a definitive size, catching the curves and countours of the car. Everything which once seemed so insignificant, becomes noticeable and distinct. Defects splinter the light off into hundreds of directions, only to be swallowed by the blistering darkness. The light which seemed so pointless slowly splits into something more distinguishable, two piercing eyes without a face. Eyes which glare with a persistency of the sun. There is nothing stopping these two lights from meeting, nothing but the air between them.

A gust of air violently ripples across the car. The wind which so lightly played upon the fingertips, now causes hair to stand on end. And as quicly as it came, it was gone. The eyes blow by in the other lane; Not a moment wasted, not a moment lost, nor a moment remembered. Just a light in the distance carrying a set of eyes which darkly pass by. If only they had crashed, the moment could have caught immortality. 

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