A Journey.

Step on the warm sand and you will see, see a sea of what was and what was meant to be.

Wind blows, time goes but nothing happens, out here. Cloth waves to me in the distance, cloth flies in the distance.

I should not but I will. The light at the end, I will find my way.

Through a dying desert, to a land far forgotten, to the frozen air at the foot, to the mists of the mountains, to the warm sun on my face.

Next to me, a companion to help me find my way in darkness, she was faithfull to me and never left my side.

We glide, the wind blows through the land and a breeze strokes my chin, I feel at home.

Her robes is white and her scarf is long, she looks like an angel but she is my companion.

We are like one but we are also very different. I see the dying desert behind us, I will not look back for it is not about the Journey, so I look forward to new heights.

We glide.

Once more.

We fall.

Darkness embraces us.

We fall.

Silence takes us and we are ready.

I refuse to let this stop us, we press on. I felt as if we were under sea but we were under something else entirely.

We smile once, she runs right, I left and the darkness takes us, only her white robes are what is lighting up at a time like this.

She feels like an angel, but she is my companion. I look at her, her me and we walk.

Statues, everywhere one is alive another is not, one was once cloth, soft and gentle whom is now stone as hard and as cold as stone should be.

A tower, a tower of light once relight, and so we ignite it's ancient flame.

An ancient flame more beautiful than I could have ever dreamed off.

I was born for this. We were born for this.

A cold and bitter embraces greets us at the mighty gate. My legs quiver and I look at her once more.

A sight to behold, she smiles and nods - and I follow.

My robes are frozen, my scarf stiff. Hers remain the same, the white robes of hope I know.

Step on cold snow and you will see, see sea of what was meant to be.

I hesitate.

The wind is blowing vigorously over us.

We take the final steps to the foot of our destination, our mountain.

We were born for this.

I think of her - the rest is easy.

We step into the deep snow, dragging us down as we walk.

My legs give out, so does hers.

Silence, takes us.

Frozen lands claim us as their own once again.

Guardians in white, they remind me of her. I look over and there she is, raising from the ground.

I cannot stand.

She gives me one look, at look I will never forget a look of fear and regret but also a look of warmth and happiness.

She flies.

Faster and faster.

She vanishes.

All I see now is a memory, of her white robes, of her long never ending scarf, and of her beautiful smile.

I will never see the end. Maybe I was not meant to.

Maybe. I was born to something else.

But no matter what that might have ever been - I am glad for the Journey that has been granted to me.

So perhaps I was wrong. The destination were never the true point of the Journey.

Perhaps it is the Journey, that is the true reason for everything...