Dilatory Meander.

Icebergs.
Drift close, drift far...
So free in the ocean wide horizon.

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The first crack showed in the snowy blanket; a tiny splinter to one's short-sided vision. But walk on...

A large blizzardlike crevasse extended from that minuscule splinter; a trench with a seemingly endless bottom, almost sending sight's senses itself to a pit of black. The edges of either side of the crevasse crumble incessantly, mimicking the consequences of even the most minor of vibrations. A simple breath in the cold, a whisper into the musky air would send a few helpless rocks into the trench, with no avail to even hear of their landing.

The trench's end was almost indeterminate. At the very edge of the horizon, the ice seemed to part completely horizontally, and was met by a deep azure. Further than that, glimpses of tiny, white dots seemed to float about the horizon, each going in every different direction, as if to purposely steer away from shards formerly their own...

A tiny crack in the ice can make all the difference.

It is so unlike the platelets streaming through our blood as they pulse heatedly through our vessels. At the first exposure to the air we breathe, the tiny cells clump together unwittingly, each combining to strengthen a wall to stop an overflow of blood. How cunning it is that it is within our best interests to subconsciously stop bleeding, and yet in the oppression of life's deafening reality as a body, we seem to distance ourselves from each other so advertently as to protect ourselves singularly, instead of all of ourselves.

---
Could I imagine enough that an answer, formidable as it may be, would float down like a diminishing cloud into my hands? Could it explain the countless questions and frazzling indictments which have been thrusted into my turn of this sequence of events?

If only I could believe so, I would work a way then to fight against this natural occurence of consequence after consequence.

So just why is it, that we drift? And why is the present always more painful than the past, as possibly an inkling of foreseeable damage in the future?

Sure, we're human, but even our own body works each body part so cunningly together to rescue us from our rue.

LOL, Sarah.
And yet, still, the environment could never be more beautiful... even in its dying days.