white with yellow peeking over the hill
ice melt, slush, in her wake
the onslaught of winter hardly begun
and here we are the fourth of Jan.

I beg and churn and oft dream,
I crave and long from all in my being,
All that is scattered all that is seen,
All that is bound to decay,
All to stumble back in your way,
Frivolous being am I to sight,
Everything I am doesn't fit right,
18 years to build this mould,
That replicates what is foretold,
A venture in this soul,
Had me realise it is dead,has no goal,

frozen crunch spewed from cold open skies
bone meets with outer space
walking earthling through winters bite
a daydream tucked away deep in mind
awash with milky way star shine.