The Whisper

Snow frostily blankets the land for miles.
The wind distorts every echo into a whisper:
A whisper of no words;

a whisper of no meaning;

just a sound on the very edge of hearing.

The icy winter air embraces us all.
It seems as if the flame of our fire wants to freeze.
The fire we lit for warmth.
The fire we lit for light.
The fire we lit for our lives.

A dark abyss looms over us.

The sky says nothing, does nothing,
but it waits.

The sky waits for dawn.
We wait for dawn.

Morning, dawn swallows the black.

Winds chill the morning light.
Again comes the whisper,
the whisper of no meaning.
But to us, the whisper is a sound worth hearing.