I walk alone all the while
As the night seems idle.

Yet not alone I walk
For there the Moon is to talk.

In the darkness of sky
The Moon glows ever by.

By me, beside me all the while,
The Moon is never idle.

The Moon alone battles as a blaze
Of the dimly lit nighttime haze.

More noble then the Sun in its flight
Is the Moon against the night.

As the beauty battles boundless dark
I keep Her company to keep the spark.

In the night when I walk about
I am not alone while the Moon is out.

I am alone. In a Forest
That surrendered to Winter.
I am alone as only one can be
In a Forest of Twilight and Ice.

As one alone,
I ponder of my other:
Loss of myself,
Sunbeams through my Forest.

Alone, I wonder of my other.
A question comes to mind,
One I didn’t ever quite ask,
A question of life and love:

Do you ever feel numb?
Cold, as if you were in a Winter Storm?
By yourself, the snow swirling
Around you in slow, lazy circles…

Everything is distant.
Even the shiny shards of Ice
Do little to remind me that
I live to bleed of this life leaving

As I pondered,
My eyes failed me –
Eyes are not needed in a Forest,
Only the vision of the mind–

I wondered of my question;
I knew the answer already,
Though, you I knew, yet not,
At the time of our meeting.

You would save yourself,
Though the Rose would die,
You would survive,
Though the life in death would die.

I wandered of my question,
As my questions kept me moving
In the stagnant, yet turbulent,
Forest of Twilight and Ice.

I found that Rose
Under a dead tree of hope.
In the sunbeams it grew
As well as the silent shadows.

I think of that Rose,
Soft and Red and Beautiful,
To ease the icy edge of the
Dark, Frozen Forest around me.

But the Rose,
Seeded in the Forested Storm,
Shadowed and shaded by dead hope,
Was short lived in death.

So the Rose dies in death, as it lived,
Frost growing from the dark petals.
A tear falls from my eye
And freezes on my cheek.

Let this be heard:
I am a Romantic,
As many of you know.

Romanticism is One
Of the few ways
To make Life Beautiful.

But Sometimes,
In the confines of my room,
in the darkness of my fears,

I Dream of Loneliness;
I Dream of Solitude;
I Dream of Sadness.

Love is Beautiful, True,
As important to my existence
As air or water.

But Sometimes,
Beauty is Hollow
Without Tension, without Release.

Does not the Rose
Look more Beautiful
Alone in Snow and Ice?

Does not the Moon
Look more Beautiful
In the Darkness of the Night?

Does not the Heart
Look more Beautiful
Alone and Broken, Crying Silently?

Life and Love and Beauty
Are not enough
Without Sadness, Loneliness and Solitude.

The most Beautiful Music
Does not stay in Major key,
Happy and Bright,

But instead explores the depths
Of the Minor:
The Sad. The Lonely. The Pain.