The Mist

I could see nothing.

Not a thing on that deserted street.

Just the mist that blocked everything from view.

I could feel the mist cutting deep into my skin.

Like millions of tiny ice sickles.

As I walked blindly down the street I could feel the hurt.

The chaos glowed in their vacant eyes and I knew they were oblivious.

I continued on feeling the stress in their heart.

The calamity of it all gave the air a pulse that only I could feel.

There was no one there.

But at the same time there was.

But I could see nothing because of the sparkling mist.

The wind bit my lips and I yearned to be anywhere but where I was.

I blinked but the nothing was still around me.

I could hear my feet hitting the cobblestone.

But they could not hear it.

I tried to speak to the nothing.

But they could not hear me.

I decided it was a good thing.

Because if they had heard me there was a chance they could have pulled me in.

Now I could start to see something.

Until finally I saw the light.

I realized in that moment that the disaster of the nothing drew me to the light.

It made it more beautiful.

As if I had to realize the calamity I was in before I could see,

how amazing the light really was.

I walked into it and saw the nothing no more.