They say you will be lost, in a world of winter and white. As fast as judgement, the ground beneath you will betray you. Quickly now, think!, before the world of sun-bleached sky and snow tumbles hard, away. The hand of ice and glass will dash the breath from you.
There was no time, you think, as the darkening grave sets around you. And the rules and laws that you used to carefully govern your existence have been wiped away. Perhaps a part of you decided, somewhere, and slipped against that heavy tide. Your limbs are held fast, and fading to a strange, sleeping cold. There is an ache like hunger, for sleep, and it coils heavily in the haze of breath pressed to your face.
If there was a beacon, it seems unlikely rescue will ever come. So it lies with you, to fight the press, and to warm your skipping heart.
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