The dark clouds of winter approach
Sure in their seasonal certainty
Requiring sense of self.
The Sun is sleeping longer
Drifting on a well earned dream
The Moon is in the sky like a drunken ferryman
Turning up when sober
Providing safe passage in the night.
The cool bight of winters morning,
Stimulate the blood
Pump it through the veins
Set the brain on its path.
The plants are asleep, the world stills
Cold comes out to play, the sea is lost
Nature moves through and on and on.
I am forced to maintain my quest.
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