Would you give a dying man his last request? Would you spare the day, the moment, the second, to do so? Can a frozen statue even move to do such?
I pile upon the layers of clothes to keep the cold out. Will it help the cold within?Frost threatens to make solid my heart. A fitting tribute in a world of frost, I suppose.
Ice flows from my eyelashes, glinting rays of darkness into my mind. A spell, I wish but nothing so mystical…I’m afraid. For darkness, doeth own a brand on my soul.
Aged memories pass within my mind, like ghosts of a bygone era. Truly so, as even a father knows no love from a son. A design flaw so evident, that even the blind may see.
Was the world even aware that souls resided within it’s walls of ice? Is there anything a being may do, to change that which has laid its foundation upon hills of madness?
The soul screams for release…finding no pleasure in a life void of compassion. Hear my words now…or forever fail to hear anything that has substance.
Upon all of us rests, the duty of creating a world where humanity shall know they yet live and a place where even the lonely may find happiness.
Open your hearts to your fellow man. Open your eyes to the peril we face. Open your mind to the misery that burns this land apart.
Only in fully seeing the place we have created, can we begin to change it into a place worth seeing. There is no greater purpose. No nobler deed. No better life.
There is no better reason to be alive.