The Blizzard of The Soul

The blizzard

of the soul that's bared

in the calculated cold

of a vacant look...

is much too brazen

and blued...

cast of every

tender sinew

...it slips

to a point

...empty

yet defined...

the tip

of an icicle

destined to

drip...

one last time

...

I watched

a face in the

cracking ice

far below...

It was marred

by the weather in

your touch.

If you had to push, 

why did you come

down with 

such weight?...

The Gate of Time 

opens so rarely, 

and only by

so much.

I tried to take your hand,

but the mirror that sat

upon the lake

had frozen over the

small hole where your 

plunging body sank...

...I'll come to visit you

when this 

blizzard of the soul

has cleared,

but now I think the snows

have buried ancient

markings that would appear

...what forecast wrinkles 

never formed on

this expressionless

expanse... waiting

for a breath

across the 

overpass

...to this smoldered spot

of a burning

heart where 

emotions

pool...

and interlock.

©

12/30/19

Bunny & Mavia Villaire