Snow.
Cold, white snow.
Overlooking the world with a sense of justice and revelation.
It covers the ignorance with temporary blanketing.
Not for long, will it be able to do so.
As the snow curls around her numb toes, she looks to the sleeping man on the bench. The peace in his worn eyes.
What had this man done to deserve this?
Had his past life been sinful?
If such a thing exists, she might be at fault.
If she didn't believe in the shrine of the devil's fire, would it be possible for her to pay a visit to him?
If everything after death was a mild belief, then who's to say that life wasn't as well?
Is anything truly ever proven?
Is there an ability to do so?
Perhaps death was a mere belief for one cannot think after the body decays. But beliefs do not need intelligence. Nor do they need a physical brain.
They are persistent ideas, wafting as energy around them continues to channel the growth.
Thoughts are individual and powerful.
But they are weak and unspoken.
Beliefs have the power to control. Nations, societies, worlds.
So this girl in the snow, could do nothing with these thoughts except to write them the best she could.
As the snow continues to flail around her, she fades.
Like a photograph.
YOU ARE READING
Words
RandomCome with me on a journey like no other. Take my tour of life, see the universe through a different eye, experience death once again without the bitter regret. Follow me, my friend, and become happy once again.
