Permafrost
An exercise in futility
My soul yearns for even the slightest bit of warmth.
As I traverse this frigid and unrelenting wasteland, hypothermia has nearly taken its course, rendering my senses dull and my heart frozen. The throbbing pressure in my extremities has long since passed, granting me some relief and comfort. But this comfort was deceitful, for its fleeting nature quickly reminded me of my rapid deterioration.
My muscles ache more now than ever. Resisting the temptation to give in to the fatal cold is near impossible. The only thing that matters now is that I keep breathing. What was once an involuntary action, has now become a laborious and painful process.
My gaze turned to my blackened fingertips, reminding me of my mortality. In that moment, my mind began deconstructing any sense of self that once existed, and the existential threat to my physical form was washed away with it.
Who I once was now persists as a silhouette, frozen in time, held within the layers of permafrost. The only company I’m afforded here are the fossilized remains of those that came before, residing only a few layers below. This echo, a version of me that’s been preserved in a perfectly imperfect state, embodies all my deepest fears, desires, regrets, and sorrows.
I wish I could rid the universe of this ghastly specter. It would take an act of nature to thaw the hardened layers of futility and hollowness that systematically bound my essence to an eternity of despair. Any attempt to break through these icy layers would be an exercise in futility, at best. Perhaps, remaining here is all that I can do.
Thus, my soul continues to yearn for even the slightest bit of warmth.
Chill prose here, brother - pun intended ;-) Seriously though, this is quality micro-storytelling... well done!
Quite the metaphor for those of us who just want to live and let live. Good work.