The cold
is the warmest blanket this year,
the air is dry,
my tears do freeze
when the feelings seize me.
Why did I do this?
To prepare me for the cold?
Did I think sludge in the mud for the winter is bold.
Bold as you,
brave into the winters night,
unafraid of the world's dim light.
The light is either thick,
or the dark makes the traction slick,
you are dark and light, light and dark, you are not flying between the bandages of emotional dead days ongoing and flowing.
Your core of heart,
living in the dark, walking through the winter night, in places no one sees. They don't know it's you. They ignore you too, identifying with your pain, loving you from far as Fane, the eternal scholar, evading tumble weeds, colorless evil casting you aside.
You are the feathers, intricate and light, the eagles soaring higher than the trolls of shrapnel, from brewing conflict,...