Snowflakes drawn the curtain,
The wind mutes everything in sight,
I shiver, knowing what is coming,
Whips of frost begin to strike.

My eyes have become mute,
Everything twists in a whirling haze,
The pain does not echo in my heart,
For it has become a burning blaze.

There is no such thing as a phoenix of ice,
Waiting to splendidly be reborn,
As this frozen flame inside of me,
Simply cannot burn.

All that is left to do,
Is to wait for an end to come trough,
Thoughts of light, hopes of fire,
Let them guide my last desire:
Let me die, as many times as needed,
My next life has already been seeded.

To talk of gentle love and me,
Seems something of an oddity.
Yet to speak of angels as muses sing,
Used to come so naturally.

A somber sonnet of the soul,
Would ease the pain of heartache's toll.
And bring with it some great delight,
Yet now that gift has taken flight.

I cannot find the words once more,
All left behind on battered shores,
Of love and loss and life now gone,
I've lost the strength to carry on.

No words shall leave this shaking hand,
Of light and hope and love once grand.
And soon shall I then fade from view,
As my words have after you.

A broken angel on borrowed wings,
To teach of love and what it brings,
To show there beauty at its best,
And lay a wild heart to rest.

To teach of pain then born of passion,
And mark the soul in subtle fashion,
To linger there in memory,
Forever bathed in agony.

Take this then, my parting gift,
A simple thing which I will miss.
My pen and heart belong to you,
Goodbye my love and gentle muse.

A footstep stood
is better than a step back.
We may leave a deeper print,
but it shows others
                    that's its not easily filled.

And that those that try to fill it,
              have lot more to prove


than the reason of its depth..