Aftermath

There is a delicate, tentative, feeling in the air, as though we are waiting for something, some storm, or some revelation that will change the shape of our world for a while. The heavy storm clouds closing in like dark battleships, to close down the sky, the wind searching every hiding place, every cranny and corner. It hunts us and it will find us, here where we wait for our futures to untangle and fall to the rain-soaked ground.

The aftermath will be cold and dark, wandering in a daze, looking for those fragments of our previous life we can recognise and save, but all is smashed, ripped and broken. We’ll have no world left, maybe not even a foundation to rebuild upon.

The horizon seems close enough to touch, as though you could reach out and grasp it, mould it into some new beginning away from these wrecks and ruins. All it would take would be one small step and then another for that horizon to come even closer and for all this to fall behind.