An extrinsic divide

Burned into the tattered tapestry of the foreboding sky,
Are faded traces of forgotten sunlight
As the fragments of ashes rain,
Scattered over the vast distance
That separates contentment from isolation.
Futility is absolute, and alone and misguided are those
Who would tread this mire so cold and deep.

Lost are all who traverse these ominously twisting paths,
For hope is only a mockery of its own illusion.