Driving along desolate country roads in the middle of the night brings with it a rare sense of peace.
“Don’t you know,
the Dark has room for everything,
And then some more”
When hope is gone it leaves in its place a hole filled with incessant whispers.
And these whispers, they tell of things that you really do not want to hear.
And though this peace to which I am referring does not come with any sense of hope, it is at least something that makes the whispers stop.