[LaBelleDameSansMerci]

Version 1.1

Time crawls.
It is lethargic,
Like a snake in the cold,
Slowly bending
Its seizing body
Along the binding path.

It cannot stray,
Though that path
Is barren and grey
And shrouded in a fog
That thicks and dampens,
Choking the breath
as if it were drowning it.

Still, it goes on,
Always drawn
Toward what's ahead of it;
Desperate to know,
To see what's behind
Those whisps that hurry by
In the moaning wind.

It knows that stopping
would be easier,
But a twisted and cruel curiosity
Drives it on
Just a little farther.
It gets colder still,
And still it goes on.
It gets stiffer still,
And still it travels on
And on
And on
And on...