Strange Fruit

The wind swept through and life changed like the seasons. Suddenly there was a shift and everything seemed to float around in the air as if gravity no longer had any power. Once the power used to hold life in place--now non-existent. The thieves came through and stole the light because they had lived in darkness all of their days and couldn't bare the thought of someone else tasting the sun. Without light there was no longer a source for heat. I found an old robe to drape over myself it was the only thing that seemed familiar--even the art on the wall became strange. Like strange fruit the pieces looked inviting but instinct unctioned that poison lied within.

This space no longer carried the same song--it now bellowed. The hollowed drum walls will have to be dressed again and arrayed with the fragrance of laughter. Lighter days await when the sun will shine through to warm the cold stale air. It will chase away the dark and cause it to hide somewhere else. I can almost see the bastard running down the street--it's tail between it's legs.

Belielf in the power to change the season to redirect the wind.