And there was brilliance
Radiating out of a bright blue
A sky so gorgeously silent

Born out of December

The soothing breeze, the kiss of chill
Lips wreathed in frost
Fractals imposed over lush tiers
So softly creeping across the skin of my reason
My vision, distorted and macabre, the mirror
Shattered


The sound of whispers, the wind across barren branch
The life of seasons gone to the grave of winter
And I turn the color of my own vitality
Over to the flesh of snow strewn memory



Touching the face of winter's midnight
Laying naked in the blight of its grip
Speaking with the season, the reaper of harvest
Of spring and summer
The age of fall passed to the death of cold.


The key to this land, gripped tightly in my sweating palm
The door locked, closed, turned from
And from the height of my reverie
The silent drops of tears fallen, to the flurried floor

My door to winter
My December

The season I lose my mind in
The festival of my neglected dreams
With Yule tidings, I do bid my past
Good eve, and good morrow
When I will recall you again
    unlocking the door
    to step through once more