Ryan

18

The promise of what was to come kept me going, that colorful world open to me, there right in front of where I stood in high May. Towering to the lofty sky were pillars of dreams and hope and love, and as I stood in awe, I knew that it was mine and could never be taken and so I turned away for the slightest of moments, knowing it would be there when I returned my gaze but when I did the haze of August mist surrounded me, and where before there was beauty now there was only the faintest glow, and reaching out finally to grasp what was mine I felt nothing but clammy fog and a mocking whisper of yesterday, and I saw the pillars and light for what they were, and that they were never mine and were never close and were never near being all for which I had hoped, and so I walked ahead in the fog waiting for winter to reclaim me.