From the past
  I came
  no one knew
  my name

  since in some corner
  of space and time, all alone
  my silent life-story
  I ceaselessly write-- just for my own

of me a wandering poet
a voice heard by no one
yet I have no doubt
there's a place for me under the sun

for to myself I sacredly belong
as long as life does still run
no regret or remorse will I suffer
when all my life-work has been done

on the road of suffering-
this where we meet

at times to forget our pains
at times to empathize

sometimes our suffering gains new insight
sometimes, maybe often, we see others suffering so much more than ours.

a day of drizzle and mist
-a comfort blanket-
snuggled in.

darkness is never very far
behind the night just gone

Winter Solstice
the longest darkest night of all.