Unsaid words dissolve in thin air like wisps of smoke. A dream hung somewhere mid air, leaving you standing at the isthmus. You fail to recognise yourself. Who are you?
A dirty finger raises and points at the mirror. A guilty pair of eyes never meet the piercing gaze. A dormant echo screeching somewhere mid air, leaving you questioning this. What brought you here?
There must be some purpose, something viable to resurrect the diminishing ashes back to the blazing flames. The cold winter night is dark and hostile to all sources of warmth. A stabbing thunder of guilt hits you somewhere mid air, leaving you speechless. Why are you still here?
For the choice has been made and the tables have turned. This is no longer a fork path in a far away forest. This is a one way stairway hoping that somewhere mid air, your path crosses the path to heaven.