May 2013
The Sound of Winter
It's an opaque sense of discouragement. Smelling the air where the flowers used to grow. Dead, quiet, cold, wet... it's wrong. The smell of the green, and the yellow, and pink. It's the exact scent of everything that winter is not. It sounds like a bird that use to be able to sing, throwing every emotion and thought to the wind, flying free and not caring who heard. Love, and joy, and the unbreakable resounding of purity and peace, but is now dead. Killed by the cold, the wet, the quiet. The song is over. And all is empty.
But could there be something I'm missing? That flickering of hope? Inside by the fire? Oh, but that is a lovely sound. The only thing I can look forward to? Warmth by the fire? Sharing it with love? The closing of the silence and the death? That's the only sound worth hearing. Among the sounds of winter. The constant popping fills the air, giving texture to the comfort and warmth. The sound of Her voice, thickening the waves of the joy that I've found in it. I never want to let it go, but winter will end... and the fires will not be necessary. The sounds of Winter will fade and I will again be lost.
It's an opaque sense of discouragement. Smelling the air where the flowers used to grow. Dead, quiet, cold, wet... it's wrong. The smell of the green, and the yellow, and pink. It's the exact scent of everything that winter is not. It sounds like a bird that use to be able to sing, throwing every emotion and thought to the wind, flying free and not caring who heard. Love, and joy, and the unbreakable resounding of purity and peace, but is now dead. Killed by the cold, the wet, the quiet. The song is over. And all is empty.
But could there be something I'm missing? That flickering of hope? Inside by the fire? Oh, but that is a lovely sound. The only thing I can look forward to? Warmth by the fire? Sharing it with love? The closing of the silence and the death? That's the only sound worth hearing. Among the sounds of winter. The constant popping fills the air, giving texture to the comfort and warmth. The sound of Her voice, thickening the waves of the joy that I've found in it. I never want to let it go, but winter will end... and the fires will not be necessary. The sounds of Winter will fade and I will again be lost.
