It looked up at the sky
searingly bright and brilliant blue
with misshapen clouds of white
but it’s eyes did not see it.

Blue was grey and the sun was dimmed.

It looked at the landscape
wide rolling hills of emerald and gold,
orchards with rows of lush trees that glowed in their verdancy
but no vista was held.

For the trees appeared as leafless twigs,
twisted and wrought,
and the ground turned to dusty grey ash
and cracked mounds as if burned.

Harmonious tones filled it’s ears
but no song could be heard.
Only a silence overlaid atop
a constant rushing wind.

It wanted to scream out
but it would have no catharsis
for it’s tendons were ruptured and torn.
And as it tried to look toward the future

a blackness filled it’s periphery like a vignette
and all that was seen was an absence.