Gone

Horns breeze frost blue melodies,

Thin air like crackling ice,

One move breaks past my weary state, Second step wounds with winter’s claws.

All I know is done,

Could months be enough to seal

Temple doors burdened by

Merciless fatalities?

Far off my pen awaits in

Polar hell, i wrote from a cliff

Of despair too wretched to bear,

I face the dagger wielding arctic

Once more with a legion behind me,

Yet even then the blizzard wars on, Nothing seems clear...

I w

i p

e

Off s m

a

l l

Puddles from my pad and clear the iced Tears teasing thoughts

From months alone.

No more uncertainty?

A path unveiled?

It could not be true, nothing

Could ever be so simple!

Nothing!

All this is a sham

I cannot return to plain crunching

Terrain where the ocean is a pure haunting abyss;

A mouth to the Devil, that corporeal black hole of lies....

One breath assured before death,

Another if all remains

Thereafter each second is a guarantee or so I believe.

My wandering mind growls

In hopes of sleep, walls fade and fear Dissipates, each distortion goes off

To my Polar hell

Awaiting winter’s Devilish claws to drag My conscience toward a Dark blue void.