“He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter… In winter the stars seem to have rekindled their fires, the moon achieves a fuller triumph, and the heavens wear a look of a more exalted simplicity.” – John Burroughs
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You called me over the airwaves
I had nothing to reply
Golden light bathed my face
Amid soft winter wind like
Time frozen in the seasonal cycle
I heard your sweet voice call,
But I could not answer
I needed my solitude
Don’t we all need time alone
To regenerate the parts of ourselves
Crowded out by madness?
(Photo by Spurwing Agency on Unsplash)
The smell of your fragrance ignites me
Pulls me closer to your secret self
Those inner energies you keep
From the eyes of the visible world
The energy swirls around inside you
It has me locked in an ecstatic trance
Come, take my weather-beaten hands
And let me have this final dance
We’ll dance for the moon and stars
We’ll kiss under rays of light
We’ll dance and hide our scars
We’ll agree to never take flight
From each other, you’re like no other
I’ve ever seen or been with
The problem with sorting out
These probabilities is that
I’ve excluded serendipity
Sometimes, there’s no way
To explain the random chance
Of meeting long-lost loves
Crowded together on street corners
Merging of dark colors
Sleepwalking on wintry road
Dead trees and dead leaves
Gray and blackness of my dreams
Destination is unknown
“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape—the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn’t show.” – Andrew Wyeth
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Winter descends here
A cold, frosted sky beckons
Pale moon looks helpless
Depression is a liar
It tells me nasty things
These negative thoughts I acquire
And the despair it brings
But my friends always say
This too shall pass
Though it’s wretched today
I faintly see a half-full glass
When I feel disconnected
Not much seems to help
I’m not sure what I expected
Or when it will stop
Music is my healing balm
And so is my writing
They help me stay calm
With the negativity I’m fighting
There’s a battle going on
Inside the minds of men
Some of us are pawns
Some of us are kings
The battle is eternal
A duality of dark and light
On earth it’s a rehearsal
For the glory of the afterlife
Underneath the cold, hard ground
I found the key to my soul
And I praised the gods of winter
Who enjoy the dead trees
And fallen leaves that rustle
Like shadow footsteps
In dark nights of lore
The high priests were astounded
By the teenage Jesus
No one believed us
When we saw him heal the blind men
In the sticky subway station
