I reached out to the light, longing for the sensation of warmth, the comfort of being embraced, wrapped in it like a blanket, but it was false. The light held no warmth as it was just a reflection. I only found out as I stepped closer.
I was in a hall of mirrors, a fun house effect, each mirror reflecting off the one beyond. I kept walking, searching for the origin of the light only to be teased and mocked for my hope and longing.
As I wandered the maze I learned to never stand still too long because even though there was no warmth the light would focus and burn me, like an evil child with a magnifying glass in the sun.
I walked for years through the cold reflections until one day I realized I was freezing, starving, and thirsty. Anything that could possibly grow here had shriveled up and died long ago, and I am too.
I stopped searching for the light years ago and now I just hope I can get out before I die.