Bring to me December,Bring to me the cold,I will be the ember,Bite it back with teeth of gold.An orange and rusty glow,I will burn the snow,Let the waters flow,Down unto the plateau.Then come September,When the wind whispers relief,When the ground bursts forth its wheat,What is lost I will remember,Hidden among the bundles reaped,Silent, not yet …
On a rock,
Burns red the day.
What is it you'll carry,
What is it you'll do?
Revamped from the July 20th version. A look into some of my own experiences, in the hopes that they might help someone else.
There's nothing we can do about the rain.
Or at least nothing that I can think to change.
“All of these open doors, what are you searching for?”
I'll glide across this frosted sea,
I'll crush the salt between my teeth.
In the midst of this winter I have found,
Within me a summer that refuses to be bound.
An invincible summer,
I hope you can feel the same warmth from her.
From you, should I hope to pluck love out of indifference's lips?