Dearest Winter Sky,

There is a dark cloud of longing that hangs over me. I traveled many miles in search of a cure. I drank the potions beneath the seas and elevated myself above the five senses. I have yet to find a cure.

I hear voices that don’t speak to me. I hear music that doesn’t touch me anymore. I have become numb to the sound of reason.

You’ve been silent for years. Write to me. You know where I roam.

Deeply,
Longing