mortius

Winter...
That reoccurring theme running through my soul.
Deadening my heart and stilling my will.

Mad and frost bitten I plea for deaths final embrace.
As the season pushes onward
Spring never coming soon enough,
Never warming the core.

As I sit in silence watching the snow,
I see myself falling further into freezing.
I see useless hands blackened and dead.

I thought these fingers were meant for something.
Fruitful endeavors exploring the soul.
They now sit senseless save the pain;
Pins and needles reminding me of their wasted existence.

My eyes become blinded by the cold
And from staring into the snowy void.
What was I to see as I looked into the freeze?

Like reading Greek my eyes got lost in the scanning;
But the white of snow brings on vertigo.
And the insanity of the search leave only nightmares.
Things my fingers could never translate.