Facing forward, distant silhouettes glide slowly in the sideline.
One’s gaze is transfixed on the empty space in which your presence made spritely motions; nothing observable in real life. Is it all in my mind?
A deep echo reverberates across the lofty walls,
Faint shrieks create the backing trail of your treacherous bellows; a deep, and soulful, yearning for the countless, deserted fellows.
But what if one reaches into the abyss? Would those that beckon be there, with arms open to embrace, when one falls?
The shadow casts across the pastel shades, a sombre ambience has these thunderous clouds made.
And there, in red, white, and lack, is the script; the carefully crafted dialogue of the scene that will play upon this homely stage.
We’re not alone, our time has come.
‘Twas that shadow that erased the beaming sun.