The Land of Mist and Shadows
Autumn's spell is no more. An army of wooden zombies cover the countryside, motionless, ever watchful, biding their time for their reanimation. Until that time they will sing the sorrowful song of winter, mourning Autumn's death.
No color, only cold. No snow to behold. The air is crisp, devoid of sound, there's only skeleton trees to be found. The time of limbo is here once more, and soon we'll walk on Winter's floor.
The remains of a fallen tree lay precariously atop a large rock in the river.
A single drop falls from the tree to the water below, the ripples radiate outward until it eventually reaches the distant shore.
Perhaps a hidden message to its brethren to remember it and not to mourn.
Soon, when it’s journey along the river continues as the river begins to rise. Until it’s final resting place where it will return to the Earth once more.
A simple scene, a tree atop a rock. Balanced and still, reflecting in calm waters on a gray and sunless day.
That simple scene, witnessed by me has touched me to the core.
I roam the land of mist and shadows a stranger to myself. My vision clouded, my purpose shrouded and yet I carry on. Then I hear your voice among the trees, like a soothing song echoing in my ears and I am at peace once again. I walk the land of mist and shadows, my vision clear and my purpose focused once more.