This wordunutteredunheardunclutteredby the burdenof being;uncreatedunderstoodin the freedomof dreaming.
Inward spiralsan empty thoughtvoid of beingyet being all.Outward turnsa waking dreamawash with lifeyet already dead.
Onceand never againis never enough.But it’s all I can give –it’s all that I’ve got.Take what is here,or not at all:I offer itonce.Only once.And never again. How much is enough?
Dark and dreary deep of winterfeeds our need for feast of light;Old Man Winter a while yet lingers,but soon he is softened by summer’s herald. The weeks of waiting rewarded wellwith warming winds and winter’s end.The foe of frost is found this evein silent vigil for sun’s return.