Outward I gazed upon what life I'd led
and saw just grey until horizon's edge.
Forever ****** I am, this road to tread,
yet never shall I yield, to trudge I pledge.

Then blackest shadow came and in a flash
began to form a shape both strange and plain.
A cat. One black as soot and soft as ash.
Now that a change had come, did hope remain?

She lept upon my lap, let out a purr,
and melted ice encasing broken soul.
Who knew such dark would tears of joy confer?
The end may come and yet at last I'm whole.

For beauty such as this is oh so frail,
for you I'll fight, and know I shall prevail.

Without end, white extends beyond my sight.
Insidiously, dark begins to creep
and on horizon's edge my eyes alight
as Sol, my friend, doth slip into the deep.

This time no stars will come, no moon will shine,
this frigid night will never end. I know
that nameless horrors on my soul will dine
and leave my rotten corpse within the snow.

But still, onward towards the black I trudge
and forth I stare, though hope has passed from me.
Til death's embrace my will shall never budge,
I seek an end to endless snowy sea.

Undaunted, I'll not yield without a fight.
Without end, black extends beyond my sight.

Preheat the oven, three hundred fifty.
Half cup butter that's melted, nutty brown.
Unsweetened chocolate added brashly
And allowed time to cool, the brew to crown.

Mix thorough, eggs and cup of sugar, two.
Temper well lest ova scramble, desired.
One cup of warm water to mixtured brew.
A few more steps ere decadence acquired.

Half three teaspoons soda, one quarter salt
Nine quarter cups flour, we now must sift.
A quarter cup of milk which we exalt.
One teaspoon vinegar provides the lift.

Bake half an hour, as scent your nostril fills.
And now we dine upon this food, devil's.

I've seen what horror can befall a man.
I stand atop this cliff, outward I gaze
and begin to recall how it began
as memory obscures my mind in haze.

I remember how, smiling, bright with joy,
you came to me with hope one fateful night.
You spoke a promise, one that would destroy
my fears and banish darkness from my sight.

A promise that, in hindsight, ****** my soul
for nothing holy comes without a price.
You gave of yourself, saved me, made me whole,
and now, without you, my heart fills with ice.

I've seen what horror can befall a man,
though, more important, is that here I stand.

Within the black, ere sun's first breaking light,
one could conceive not life within the dark.
However, dawn's new brightest beams alight
upon a simple orb beyond remark.

Within this shell, so still and fragile, lives
the hope, the dream, that something might soon be.
And so within the worshipped light it gives
a longing soul extends a silent plea.

A panicked witness stands as cracks begin
and death's miasma creeps out from the crags
now formed from pure and smoothest ivory skin.
The soul, at sight of rotted infant, gags.

From tomb the corpse slips, dripping blood red wine,
for death is god's will, be it so divine.

Constructed under water's highest tide,
encroaching waves breaking upon the land,
its clearly ****** existence must subside.
Is it absurd, this fortress built of sand?

The waters rise, now lapping at its base,
erosion wiping meaning from the beach.
For once a thing is lost, without a trace
is purpose gone? Forever out of reach?

One final wall is swallowed by the sea.
Its image shall soon vanish from the mind.
Yet even as the grains of sand break free
what effort gave, its value, stays behind.

The works of man must always someday fade.
So in the doing, purpose must be made.

Oh, what blossoms from dark earth have I found?
Tis but a flower, growing in the sun.
Refracting light casts rainbows on the ground
and I ask what contains more beauty? None.
        
A stem of glass, as fragile as a heart,
from which its petals of pale crystal grow.
Seem they to smile, when tears of joy do start
within my eyes. True bliss, at last, I know.
        
Yet when, with longing, I extend my hand
the shadows loom and terror grips my soul.
Though peaceful my intent, no malice planned,
I know my touch must surely take its toll.
        
So here I stand, gazing down at the earth,
aware myself judged of little worth.

A square of paper, plain as ****** snow.
A fold, a crease, potential now began.
Life stands anew, now given room to grow,
as something forms beneath the will of man.

Wings skyward seek and, touching brightest blue,
take flight to traverse freedom’s great unknown.
Wherever life’s desires to roam hold true
a paper bird best shows how hope is sown.

Yet now my flock, one thousand strong, is made,            
so many scraps of paper now transformed,
I regret the theft of hope now grayed,            
forgotten as the lost potential stormed.

Now hope and freedom are but empty words
I lay before a flock of lifeless birds.