By this frailty of mine
the northern wind
should strike me cold
and I will shatter

Left afraid, asunder,
left to wilt and wonder
of the me I never had
yet still have lost

To see the sun
undone in darkness
when the overhanging clouds
consume it whole

As I am hung
struck fast to new beginnings
into winter’s ice
into roiling confusion
and omens of death
where the land speaks
only in whispers

All things sleeping, if alive at all
yet, I hear
deep in the warmth
of my heart
(which never dares to speak)
a final cry as I
loom over
Death’s cold stare

Parting from
the fragments of
life
I once claimed
myself

Untethered

There becomes
the all encompassing storm

No longer are there clouds
nor is there vision

We are suspended mist
This illusion of a form
which does not exist

I am not I

We retreat
to love in deep
to see the overlay begotten

Whilst under thy
unyielding tides
lie everything
as One
forgotten