Lost Amongst The Night

"Do not go gentle into that good night." "Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Quote By Dylan Thomas Smoky clouds float above slate skies. Powdery alabaster flakes of snow glide to the earth. A frozen taste of grief hovers in the breeze, while maniacal machinery grinds close by. The scent of industrial oil stings my nose, as your chestnut coffin lowers into the misty petrichor below. The pattering of moist dirt dings against the hardened box. Crystal-clear tears wash over my face, your warmth now replaced by a marble headstone. Hours pass under opaque moonlight; I sit with midnight winds and buttery daisies, clinging to the glistening stone, trying to find a way back to you.