All I can see around me is ashes. Ashes floating in the wind, choking the air, painting everything a dismal grey.
Not even a few remaining burning embers can be seen amongst them; everything is cold. Dead.
They are, of course, the ashes of my life. Every thought, hope, and dream has died....burnt out...now blowing into the atmosphere as if they never existed.
I look at them and wonder, what was the point? What is the point?
I have nothing left to burn, no hidden stores of fuel that can reignite the flame. It is all spent.
So I go on, an empty shell, going about my empty existence, working my empty job, smiling an empty smile.....longing for a warmth that will never return.
Copyright Steven Clark 2011
Written for GBE 15
