Snowflake
Alone, awash
amidst this sea of spruce
And pine
I sit. Into the rising fog
I gaze as if
to see some mystic realm.
Enchantment
drew me to this holy hill
By promising
a glimpse of heaven's bliss,
But haze and
heavy clouds obscure my view.
The gloom,
my doom it is, I think, to see.
What is it
like to dream of future days
And not of
nightmares past? The wintry blasts
Come howling
through my brain. Yet on the winds
Of pain a
solitary snowflake floats.
Someday the
snow will fall and bury all
My shame
beneath its pristine flow, and I
Will know at
last a season of new hope.
1 comment:
Hey, cheer up. It's almost time for a new president! Oh yeah, that's right. (Dark cloud descends once again.)
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