When the light fades.

The clouds are coming.

Senses acute, she braces for the impact of this fresh blanket of darkness that will settle on and around her and claim its space.

Unwanted and unwelcome.

It doesn’t matter. IT doesn’t care.

There were no clouds in the forecast today. No fair warning. Another betrayal to her spirit.

Perhaps that is better though. No warning. Then she never has to burden herself with losing her present too – waiting for it to arrive and take over.

No warning means only her future is lost to this sudden dull ache of emptiness.

Her light fades. Only her shadow remains. A stark contrast to the winter wonderland outside her window.

Darkness pounding against her being. Pushing all hopefulness of a new dawn to the edges, filling the void with dreed and dullness. An invisible vast emptiness so heavy her shoulders hurt under its weight. Pressing her down. Her body folding into itself for protection. But it is not flesh and bone in this fight. It is all the space in between.

Her spirit breaks. It is only temporary. She knows this. But at this moment. In this here and now, she is completely broken.

There is only emptiness.

She sits and stares. At nothing. And at everything. The pictures she sees expand and shrink. Blurring in their own stillness, until the image itself becomes still. Vacant of all meaning.

In this moment, there is only stillness. No movement – in or around. Nothingness.

She no longer has the strength or ambition. To fight against it.

So, she sits. And stares into the abyss.

Moments pass. Mere fragments of time. Measured only by the compulsory sounds of breath and heartbeat.

In these moments, the intervals of quiet hold all the power.

Her head rises, it is slight. But real.

Movement, both in and around. A sensation of life returning.

The dark clouds are lifting.

The shadows are growing across the floor as the darkness passes over. Moving on. Releasing her back to her thoughts. Hopeful thoughts.

Her spirit restored. She is back.

And suddenly she realized something the world has always known.

There has always been a rise and fall.

And there always will be.

And so, she rose again.

With gratitude,