A cloak of sadness hangs over me today, like a great shroud saturated and heavy with the tears of a lifetime.
A sadness that comes from being there close and seeing the gun pulled free, watching the fingers as they squeeze against the trigger and doing nothing to stop it.
Sometimes the bang is heard only by a very few or no one at all.
But the shockwaves from this action continue to move forward, silently through time and space, leaving marks upon those in its path.
A cloak of sadness hangs over me today; much like the way fogs clings to the rocks on a June morning.
A sadness veiled in heavy air, waiting for the warmth of the sun to breakthrough and dry up all the dampness.
This cloud of fog obscures one's vision, the dreams and desires that lie just up ahead.
So close within reach while at the same moment totally unattainable.
A cloak of sadness hangs over me today, it's heavy and uncomfortable, and doesn't serve a purpose.
It's not a cloak of comfort; it's not a cloak of warmth.
Just a cloak of sadness for the way things are and the way things might have been.