The sand in my hand
Sand, the finest sand running through my fingers. A clenched fist trying in vain to hold back. But the sand runs on. My grip thigtens only forcing the sand out faster. But even from a loose grip the sand still runs much to fast.
And the sand is eventually followed by tears.
Håvard, I hope you read this sometime. It’s been too long, I hope you’re doing well.
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Darkness
A twilight whisper, to a dreaming friend, another soul of yours. A quiet dream, kept to yourself, from a frenzying world. A horrific void, raising from darkness, into a burning unknown light. Have you ever seen the darkness, that total blackness, that void of nothing, that eternal place of peace, won by the death of all light? Take a look, search your soul, take a peak into nothing, see the darkness, feel the void, and die.