Lights
The darkness is immense, wallowing in all the corners deep across the time and space of an ordinary day.
There is no Other that sits so well as oneself alone, with all the others simply servants, not real ones, all lined up to give an illusion of reality.
But there is no goal if there is no Other.
Is there a light to light this darkness like no other? Is there a hope of a cure that everyone says does not exist.
And in the moment that artificial light will hit the trees of snow covered in agony and loneliness.
Where, Oh Where, Is the Hope in the Dark, if not in the Light from the Day.