For a relic of honor
my onward progression and patience has to once again,
gear up for its most lengthy and wearisome, waking battle

Out beyond the center light of diving snow
And spiraling wind
Where shade sustains itself with duplicated shadows around the lake of envy

Under the hood of the forest
that stretches under serene pinholes of sprinkled radiance
Is a rehab for hollow reaches of emptying brittle skin and perpetual bubbling
Inviting fruits along with blackening kindling and timber reduce to ashes returning the cycle
A cure of open arms that create parallel warmth
the genesis of what makes fruit so inviting

If tomorrow opened path for that first step to be taken
Winds would blow so hard:
the hood of shade would push right passed the forest
splitting cracks multi directional into the pinhole for sunbeams
Allowing all collected snow to flood over the lake
Soaking all the wood
Causing any potential burning to be blackened
derailed by a dense heap of soggy innards
Consequentially taking away any chance of warmth
The initial make of comfort that raise up her open arms