Left For Our Spring

I'll carve my thoughts into your frozen,

    Winter's river... It's strange,

To think, that my efforts will leave marks
  ...Which, resemble scarring;
[Appearing almost alien--locked within the

   Glassy layers, which, intern your 'means',

         'Support' and 'serenity']
My message, left to weather in the elements,

           And wilderness--along with its    

              Un-faced trials,
     Woes and tribulations;
As if, an icy cocoon, waiting on the Spring      

           Equinox to bring the motion of Life

               Out of its hibernation...
         And bathe the once-slumbering

In the warmth of a re-born, and awakening

             World...

   [Within the throes of

       Remembering the skills necessary for One's own

           survival and sustainability....]
   Hoping that the thaw, which, ushers in
 Our Spring, would free this winding--wise and 

Immortal--river, as well as, the piece of myself

     That I left on those secretive, un-wandered

              Banks...

In hopes, that the embrace, and radiance,
   Of our Solaric star would help to lift my

        Name--my memories; my ideals--up,   

            'On high'...

                [Until only the clouds

                     Surround it--and only the

                 Winds whip against my name;

      As a passenger atop the vortices and      

                Turbulent currents that carry a      

         Season too far away to see...

    It will always have the privilege of playing    

                The mute... Watching as    

     The final moments of one season,   

         Somehow, seem to meld into the

                  Very first seconds of another... ]

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