Now What?

A sea of utter loneliness expands before me. All which lies ahead of me is covered with a cold, white blanket of uncertainty. Even these words fall into oblivion in no apparent order—crazy suicidal hooks of ink jumping from a cliff. My heart is a limp balloon hanging from a mess of cobweb strings in an empty chest. People around me mutter goodbye, as do objects and sunny mornings. That charred leaf falling from a maple tree is a reminder of the decaying beauty that hung on to its own charm for too long.