Awake

I could hear static roaring in my ear. Voices struggled to be heard. Words tried to reach me, but they fell on deaf ears. And I was blinded by sheer white light.

The ground beneath me was broken. Bruised hands touched ruble. Feet staggered across pieces of what I once called home. Eyes tried to see where I have fallen, but memory fought to remain oblivious, believing all was not as it seemed. And I could hear the static blasting inside my ear.

A small voice stole through the darkness. I heard no hope. It carried no fear. The voice merely spoke, but again it fell on deaf ears. And my world was white, blinded with static.

A wall of white met my eyes. Endless buzzing filled my ears. My world was gone, destroyed, but why? How did one calm night become a vicious storm of chaos, of nothing? Was I here, reaching my end, or did hope wait in silence? And the outside world fell under quiet, but one voice stayed strong. And words tried to form, reaching their hands toward me.

But still I could not see. Instead, I was gripped by darkness, fear, and begging for hope to come and rescue me. I did not want to remain here, sifting through the broken pieces of my life. I wanted to survive, but how could I, if I remained blind? And a word touched my ear.

Awake. The darkness gave way, and I found myself on comforting ground. A dim lamp revealed no chaos but a night wrapped in darkness, and turmoil no longer held my thoughts. And I sat up, pressed my back against the soothing embrace of the couch, and rubbed my eyes, and there sat the television set before me. And a wall of white filled my vision, and its roar bombarded my ears. And again, I heard it call to me. Awake, but were we still circling around the edge of darkness?