interesting

roncebik

The February sun,

Its glare blinding my sight,

Reveals only the cold of snow

Drifted like prison walls

Confining my spirit

Within the longing of hope.

Long afternoon shadows,

Devouring streaks of light,

Portend the time coming

When the darkness descends,

Drawing the soul inward

To touch reality.

 

The morning leaves its mark,

A black smudge on my brow

Signifying nothing

But ashes and decay,

What I was and will be

Except for this moment.

This is hidden from me,

Though upon my person

Is the sign of my fate.

For me to see on you,

The truth about myself

Transforms everything.

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