But out of those frozen depths, the sun begins its climb,
as thawing forces melt into the melancholy of time.

Now I sit in solitude on the bare rocks by the river
and bone-chilled trees stand stark in the garden of frost.

The ice that covers the waters is starting to recede,
and seems just one step away from cracking.

Somewhere in the stillness of the naked forest,
the mysterious silence feels full and never lacking.

I close my eyes to soak in the well of being,
to embrace the unknown friend that walks alongside me everyday.

In the shadows beyond the snowdrifts,
I can barely discern a vast, invisible presence.

I look within and see planets spinning in their quiet revolutions,
cutting paths through the star-spangled dark cosmic sea.

They feel empty and sacred, empty and sacred,
orbits of ritual performance granting shape to the bleeding chaos.

Their celestial bodies seem to plunge toward the sun,
but the clever star evades them one by one,

And together they form arcane wave patterns through
the ocean of galactic glow.

Suddenly my eyes flicker open as a snowflake melts on my face
reminding that winter is far from through.

My soul feels distant and present, distant and present,
as reverence for the dark cycle of nature pulses
through my veins again.