After countless hours of toil, I get to rest. I get to take everything of my chest, lay down and find myself in the blank ceiling, in the window thats revealing frosted raindrops.
And they glisten through the moonlight, shinning thoughts and prayers, appearing out of thin air, clouds being just a distant memory of autumn days.
Each drop hits the window and echo-less it shatters, leaving marks of ice on the glass.
Drop by drop is followed, and they all fall and break on the small window that still gives back no resonance.
Ice covers mark the graveyard of reason, of thoughts, of unanswered prayers, and I cant melt it...