Shattered glass, smashed on ice, veiled splinters in the winter hinterland

The distant bark heralds the stark blue start, to another brittle day.

Forgotten roads, strewn with gritted teeth, limbs bowed with their burden

The candyfloss canopies are mirrored in the crisp, sugar-framed watery tomb.

Proud and unwilling, following the crowd, stagnant blades threaten the horizon.

The cold shoulder rises between two figures sat like crows, telegraph poles apart

Blinded by the waning furnace, deceived by the memory of warmth.

The premature darkness displays its faltering gems.

4 years. It wasn’t the first and wasn’t the last

still tears and the curse that cannot be passed.

New years bring fears of reprise, hope of reprieve

the grinding of gears and the struggle, to believe.

The greatest thing I have ever done

was to shun

not the limelight, title or hand

given freely

but the sense of reverence expected

by the few

the expectation of deference due.

I do not fear the passing years

any more than I fear the passing days

which is to say, I hide my tears

and fail to address my failing ways.

It’s still early

the lids are heavy

the locks are loose

not content

struggling to contain

the contents

standing aloof

left to choose

what stays

what goes

this harsh cold evening

Pray

Tell me how

in the here and now

what actions, words or deeds

sow the seeds

of love or hate or greed

in the hearts of others

are they not my brothers?

Tell me

Pray