No mountains today. Instead we are enveloped in a cloak of grey fog which shrouds all distant objects and seems to bring those closer to more prominence. To more immediate notice. Just as deadlines in my life have drawn near and are clamoring for attention. Self-imposed deadlines, to be sure, but still…
I can hear the preceding echo of heavy metal doors clanging shut in my mind as I contemplate the upcoming move. Right now ‘tis nothing more than the last gentle echoes of that event, but with the passage of days they grow louder as I proceed toward the source.
A chapter of my life comes to an end soon, and another will begin. The pages before me are as yet empty, waiting to have a new life penned onto them. It provides no comfort to gaze upon the blank pages and know that there will be no one to help fill them.
I am trapped in the nebulous space between the two doors in time. Things rush through the door rapidly closing behind me and fill this small space almost to suffocation. Yet I cannot see thru the doorway ahead of me. That door is not open enough to offer more than the merest glimpse of the future.
A lone snowflake completes its journey from the sky, settles gently upon the window ledge, and dissolves. Another dream has died.