DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Catherine Kay and is copyright (c) 2002 by Catherine Kay.
The Coldness of Time
A cup of tea is steaming in my hands.
It's warm as I cradle the cup.
I will the warmth to my heart.
But my heart is elsewhere.
Beyond the touch of life's warmth.
I feel so cold and tired.
My feet burn from the blazing heat of the fire beyond.
The logs hiss and pop angrily.
But except for the tingling discomfort,
I can't draw the energy in.
Age has caught up with me.
Age has now passed my dearest friends.
They are all dead, beyond time.
Time flitters around the room.
It caresses those things from long past.
The harp glows warmly beside my chair.
The chess set stands cold as stone,
The ebony pieces catching the firelight.
The bottle of brandy, unopened, dustily rests on the mantel.
The painting of "The Expulsion from
I once read about an ancient belief in a place called purgatory.
I saw no point in the belief of this place.
Yet purgatory seems to fit this room.
A timeless place between life and death.
A place where a person is trapped with nothing but their existence.
The tea has gone cold.
I wonder if I will grow cold with it.
A final release from this grey plain.
I came to
I would welcome that pain to tell me my heart still beats.