The obsolete cries of a young child whisk away the dreams of the night

Instinctively, its mother hastens to calm the infants caprice

The boy awakens amidst the commotion,

shuddering with every intake of gaseous ice.

Child-like allure draws him to the window,

to gaze upon the pearls of water

seemingly floating down from the heavens.

“Do not go outside, you will surely freeze”

The soft words of his mother lectured.

But the curiosity of ignorance is stronger,

much stronger than the wisdom life brings in adulthood.

Naturally, the boy strode out into the cold.

In an aimless leisure into the wood behind his home

Long and far the boy slogged on

Hearing the shrieks of nature's residence

Gazing upon the fertility of time and nature amalgamated

When he happened on a prominent oasis,

a pond in the middle of the woodland.

He traipsed towards the attraction,

fascination warming his externals

Intrigue frosting him numb to the bone

A promise lay across the pond

Crystallized water with sparkling, dancing patterns

Splayed across its surface as beautiful as his own curiosity

Sauntering ever closer to natures epiphany,

Drawn to it, driven by childishness

He stops barely an inch from the blanket in awe.

Sedately, he begins to tread the surface

Testing the boundary, probing the layer

He steals another pace

A small crack appears beneath his limb

No human response, the wind his only progression

Another step, the crevice widens

like a butterfly in dissemination

another inch and the surface contorts.

A woman's remote voice is heard crowing in the distance

He receives nothing, no sound

His mind fogged with a single objective

Another step, and the ocean fills the gap

Ankle deep in a cocktail of beauty and distress

Zero intentions of returning to his own mind.

The last preceding step, and he was immersed within it

The sharp, wet jaundice returns the boy to himself

Eyes wide he attempts to recover,

Break the Surface and breathe easy.

But his sense of direction was all gone,

no way to tell up from down

Until his small hand touches the cold

The border between himself and time

He knocks, almost politely awaiting a response from the other side

He continues to tap the surface, softer now

Surroundings blurred, consciousness subdued

A final finger brushes the frozen, empty promise

And the gentle, cool tenebrous envelopes his sleeping body.

…

Off in the distance,

The obsolete cries of a young child whisk away the dreams of the night.