The wilds set to sleep as I took a step outside
Into the white fields of the forest winter scape
Fleeting for the moment, timeless for the ages
Is this a dream or death that found me

Hearken to the choir of the weeping wolves
To the patterings of the riverbed running cold
As they seem to reveal their dearest dark secrets
The embers surrender to the falling snow

A tale twice to tell
The seeds for a shade I will never sit within

Once we were here
With a silent wish to send into the night
A small stroke on the canvas of life
The breath of season-coloured hope
Bed for the traveler finally coming home
Endless the days
That carried on with each early rising sun
Now to bide the second before dawn
Here we’ll rest until our time will come
Welcoming the last of the wilds

Was the thought of the journey the only thrill
That nourished the nights with consolace and awe
Did youth give its strength not for me but to rest
This cradle of life a graveyard of man





©2018, Adrian Betz