Desolate Soul

The slow, desolate soul creeps its way across the long, icy desert,
A shiver runs up his spine, memories of past lives coming to haunt him.
Memories of a woman, the purest of women. Eyes of blue and hair of red.
Memories of suffering at her hand.
Memories lost in the storm of time.

He finds himself weeping again, not sure why. Worms eat at his skin, as he lingers on across the plain. He finally collapses, memories flooding his mind again. Memories of a girl. The purest of girls. Eyes of blue and hair of red.
Memories of a love strong and true.
And memories of a faded happiness.
Memories of a love lost in the sands of time.

He crawls further along, unsure of his destination. His skin tears and he screams with pain inside, but to onlookers, nothing. His bony face battered by the snow and hail. He feels his skull crack, as he moves onward, to his final fate.

He continues on, a perilous journey across a barren world. The flowers die as he passes, and the trees rot. The sun is seen to be setting. The autumn leaves turn brown, as he collapses again. He pulls himself with just his weary, war-torn hands. His fingers break, and he stops. Memories once again fill his mind.
Memories of a female, the purest of females. Eyes of blue and hair of red.
Memories of his loss.
Memories of his death.
Memories lost in the fabric of time.