It starts slow at first, but the crawl fastens to a sprint before too long. The snowball is gaining momentum and intensity as it rolls down the mountain. Its pace and path is naturally described in nature. Organic. Pure. It knows nothing but what was instilled from the beginning. The evolution of being has caused a crisis below. Warnings of the cataclysmic force has heightened fear in the town below. No longer will the calm serenity blanket the securities of the folk in direct path of the apocalypse nearing. Decisions will be made. Lives will be changed. Complacency will be abandoned. They scurry to protect everything they've known, building walls of plastic and wood. They hurry to protect everything they've known, building walls of ignorance. They bury everything they've known, hiding in basements waiting. Armed with arrogance and guns, the people prepare for the impending force. The mountain shakes as it gives more and more of itself to the ball of life. Debris is littered everywhere by the animal as it sheds its winter coat. It's time for the party. The town lights are now in sight behind the feeble walls of pretense. As if on cue, the town hears the roar of the quickening force of nature coming into distance. It's too late for escape. Brace for impact. Last thoughts reflect human spirit holding such a high disdain for death it echoes throughout the night even after it's over. It doesn't take long for the snow to settle and the silence to set in. Life has a funny way of erasing the existence of so many so quickly, yet if you were look out at the picturesque scene a sense of finality bothers the conscious. Human folly is building life and hope under such fragile conditions. Now they will forever stand as reminders. Frozen statues in basements.
