To the winter of my soul I come,
encircling me in quixotic rhythms unknown
to one as humble as I.
To the edge of the abyss
yawning deep before my trembling toes
as they inch closer and closer
to its inky depths.
Into the moment a whisper floats,
"Draw back. Remember
your life is not yours to own . . .
soon, so soon, comes spring,
rebirth the inevitable answer
to destruction
but hold fast the memory
of those moments on the precipice..
..as reminders of the cycle,
when next your toes shall dangle
at the edge of the abyss
in the winter of your soul."
