I’m lost in a field.
Right now, I don’t know where I am, and even if I did, it’s much too late for me to turn back now. I should keep pressing forward.
And I do.
The weather outside quickly changes from sunny to stormy. Rain clouds are on the horizon. I try to fight against my fears of not finding shelter in time for the storm, but it’s no use. I’ll never be found. They have long since forgotten about me. I am completely lost.
The wind picks up; it’s so real that I can feel it slapping me. Stinging me. It hurts even more that I’m in a field where no one can find me or help me. I feel as if I’m done for.
The storm begins, and to me, it’s not a matter if I’m going to be found. It’s a matter of if I’m going to survive.
- Off topic: Clouds galore, decoys of war, fave words, sex partners (siliconbeat.com)
- Rays of light escaping through broken branches. (blossomsworld.wordpress.com)
- . : planet iceland : . by Martin Pfister (500px.com)
- A photograph to inspire poetry: A Cloudy Sky (msakran.wordpress.com)
- The Clarity of Storms (My New Poem) (theweightofmyworld.com)
- Some risk of strong, severe storms Tuesday (wlwt.com)