Ashes and Past

The whispers torment still. Temptation curls its song softly into my ear. Mind and Soul wage a silently screaming war. Yet, it is not like the eye can't see. It is not like the hands can't feel. It is not like I cannot sense the beauty in life. The drama. The essence of a miracle played out everyday. But in each miracle lies the embers of yesterday's ashes. It is these ashes that float around the minutes of my life. Wafting their past gently yet relentlessly into the present. The moments that drop their dew on to every step I take cannot take this chaos. This sufferage and joining of the tumultuous past with an undecided present. The life is strung out of each moment. Each ripped from the umbilical cord of life. They float past me. I can feel them echo their murmured existence. I gaze at them. Try desperately to wrench the last life out of them. Breathless, I find that I have only the ashes again. This time, the ashes of the present.