Nothingness

That constant change is still in the cool crisp now, winter air.
Longing and nervously awaiting my presence to come and capture it, to come play..
To take me into a world of nothingness.
The hope of knowing who I am, is nothing but a dark, sick and twisted fantasy.
I wish I could look in the mirror, and know who I am looking back at, thought I cannot tell you I can.
The disappointment is there every day.
The crunch of the leaves has subsided, and the crunch of the snow is crunching my soul.
The snow still falls, carrying on its own way, without a thought, a trace of emotion or acknowledgment.
The world falls silent, when that happens, like the Tin Man, being rusted in The Wizard of Oz.
Everyone freezes, all humanity is of a frozen Earth.
Those burning pages have not ceased with the wet falling snowflakes.
The pages continue to burn, faster and faster every day, holding on to its last hope of being put out, of being rescued.
The hollowness in my heart and soul have been filled with love, hope, and appreciation of life, but there are still cracks and flaws, that I cannot let go of, that will take years for me to let go of...
And why she holds on to these horrific scripts in her mind, no one, not even herself, will ever know or come to understand.
She's still traveling those dark, lonely deep woods, following some faint light at the end that she can barely see.
The light, that she is still trying to reposes, and gain consciousness with.
But now the ultimate question: Can she?

11.29.09