Saturday, August 16, 2008

ColdAn endless plain of purest white around me here is spread, My body aches with bone deep cold, I wonder, “Am I dead?” The panic builds inside this shell, made such by feelings, hidden well. A shadow falls, a footstep calls, reaching out to me with warmth. My heart beats quick, wanting relief from this deathly cold. I run, the ground moves quick, my flying feet are swift. Slow and sure the shadow draws near, arms open calling me. I slow, then fall into those arms. Alive! The Shadow fills my aching heart, brings courage to my soul, allowing me to carry on, In this wasteland in the snow.

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