Isdagen

As the rainfall pours from pockets of gray
And the trees are veiled in winter´s crystaline glaze
I Walk these slick roads awash in the dim orange glow alone
The Cold stings my lungs and my breath dances round me as smoke.

On this darkest of nights
In Cryptic verse we light orbs on this pillar cloud
And rise as a phoenix from the ashes of rebirth.

If you seek mere consolation redeem yourself of your obsessions.

Staring down that road towars your healing place
Hestation emerges from the grey (a veiled descent from grace)
Flee and mute your faith, in silence stake your claim.

Should you emulate flakes that form and fall from pales skies?
Should you mold yourself as those melt and vanish in the sun?
Should you emulate flakes that form and fall from pale skies?
Should you mold yourself as those who fade like dust?

A paradox indeed that white signals the end of beauty
Yet I´m alive as the four winds mix and converge beneath me
I´m paralyzed yet still know
All words flow from me yet I still keep secrets from the stones.

Shades of white black my eyes
These visions of the past I´ve laid to rest.

Orange light showed her glossed reflection
Breath of night tore the cold stone boughs
Winters´s din, howling from the darkness
Hollow and crisp.

The gloomy light did paint the shadows on her face
And her hair blew wild as raven´s wings
Her algid, twisted phrase that shook reality
"This day of ice has moved right through me".

Flakes that form and fall from pale skies have vanished in the light.