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The spilled ink

He stood there, in the middle of nowhere. Shell shocked. Dreadful silence.
Unspoken words meant the world at its periphery.
Darkness scared the life out of him. The rustling leaves took a straight hit on his belief, pulse slid down just like a damping wave losing its girth.
The thoughts of letting go suffocated his brain. Not breath.
His hands trembled. Seismic waves, what?
Sweat poured onto the paper. Oceanic depth, so narrow?
With every word spilled, the wanting, the hope, the belief grew stronger. Never like before.

Damn! Words are undoubtedly the secret saviours from the darkness.

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