"Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night."
Virginia Woolf, Jacob's Room
The rawness of the winter night drove me under an old quilt while the fireplace projected images of dancing flames. The flicker of my candle light shifted form, reflecting upon my blank journal page. The wind out side blew against the iced branches tapping upon my window pane.
The ice cold stillness brushed against my warm heart, stimulating a sense of loneliness. Ill at ease, I put pen to paper and randomly sketched until I felt a connection with the page. Words began to flow, releasing emotions out into the winter night.
Hibernation can be good for me, once I sweep careless thoughts from the stairway of my mind. Reaching higher levels calms my sparking nerves into bursts of imagination. In the upstairs of my mind, there is no room for melancholy, as I am swaddled with the love of the Divine.
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