Ghosts of Winter

Far away, in many a distant dreaming
I fell
Deep into some chasmous dark ending
The end of all
And the end of none
For what it was, I cannot say

Recollection evades me, but I remember the chill
As ice and memory drove deep and jagged
Memories of drought
Emotional famine
All but the loneliness of time
In that, I drowned millions of times

Over and over I sat, fading
Scarcely wondering should I dare to hope
As the snow refused to fall
And my dreams refused to die
In those barren landscapes outside my windowpane
Long since dead, where trees fall silent

Endless I gazed into the dreary netherworld
Empty and abandoned
Waiting, watching
For his shadow to pierce the fog
Yet all these colorless orbs could see
Were the phantom towers of winter

Perhaps I joined them, or perhaps I died
Somewhere between my hopelessness and dreams
Down rocky paths of eager failure
When came the dark stranger
Who now inhabits me
Or perhaps it is I who possessed him

A beautiful tragedy or a never-ending nightmare
We walk the path of ebony
For it is the only path we wish to know
Dead eyes see no fortune
But they do see truth
Just as the forests see the shadows of time

Such are the laws of melancholia
Sad spirits only find peace through misery
Inside, death is but a path forever waking
And forever living
It breathes through our hands in strokes of pain
Etching our formless ghosts onto the canvas of eternity…

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