Snow

Footprints along whiteness crunch, crunch goes snuffed loneliness, slowly making its way along a snail-way path to more bleak emptiness. The flakes descend upon the black back slowly drifting and then gently falling back onto the whiteness. This cycle on perpetual Void, nothing upon nothing, mounting into a Cyclone. The board is blank, the canvas plain, the jug that is empty. Waiting to be filled, waiting to be drawn, waiting to be painted, waiting to be written waiting alone in this void, crunching along whiteness.