So unbearably frigid,
You can feel the chill penetrating
Deep past layers of muscle tissue
Straight into thy bones, bitter frost
Enveloping you in its embrace; you
May try to avoid the blistering frigidity,
But there is no escape. None at all.
All around, as far as the eyes can see, is a blanket of
Thick, white, endless snow, obscuring the ground
Under its smothering, vast presence. One could concur,
Indeed, all is dead and lost…this be a land
Of no hope,
Visual representation of that numerical value
But the ancient trees still stand, bare, but proudly tall, and critters
Still find time to frolic with gaiety, while others
Have tucked themselves away to endure
What may appear to be the end times
In the eyes of the unfamiliar, the uninitiated.
Life hath not been vanquished.
Donned new appearances, new forms.
Pity to those who couldn’t
Make it; woe unto the unfortunate
Unable to withstand the mad howls of
A fading year’s rushing winds.
No way out, is all thy mind
Can seem to tell itself
Where, o’ where,
Doth the exit reside, in these
Harsh, cruel lands?
Trudging forth, it all seems so
Futile, as your body does its best to
Spread heat into every square inch of
Your being, eyes growing weary and blurred as a
Result of the vicious assault
Committed upon thee with
Great fervor, for Nature is
Often cruel, even when it’s so
Strikingly gorgeous and
Awe inspiring. Exhausted, tired, every
Bit of exposed skin stung by the burning
Pain of thousands of pointed, invisible needles,
Morphing into a deep crimson hue. Every step
Feels weighed down,
Senses turning numb
Whilst a blankness of
The mind overtakes.
Yes, this is all such a wondrous sight to
Behold, bear witness to…
Glory be to the picture-esque scenery,
A true monument to the
Sheer artistry Nature is capable of
With its brushstrokes and molding hands…
Preposterous, it would be, to not take
Note of the way the full moon
Bestows the only constant source
Of illumination; one
Mustn’t be hopeful
In regards to the
False hope given off by the
Rays of already dead stars that are
Impossibly far from our little abode.
Crawling still towards a
That leads out of this
It begins to
Dawn on you…
What you hope for is not there.
Subsist? Survive? And how?
Via the lethally icy substance
You tread through?
Or the bits of food you were not
Programmed to detect…least of
With no recourse left,
The snow is the last thing you
Feel as your body plummets
Right into the ground, unable to
Keep mindlessly wandering through this
Place, of which you cannot recall
How you wound up in.
Heart rate slows to stand still
As you let your heavy eyelids
Begin to fall shut, breathing becoming
More labored, more…difficult,
Lungs and throat singed, lacking moisture,
Only dry bitterness remaining, but the
Energy to cough and wheeze is
Curious shadows begin to approach
From the edges of your field of vision.
Noises of a most disconcerting
Variety fill your ears, and you wonder
What will take you first.
The reaper’s scythe…
Departure is inevitably; tis coming soon.
But it will wait…
As the cessation of your life
Begins to take place, where being alive
Slowly turns to being a corpse, the
Puncture of Death’s eternal blade
Makes itself known in your back.
Jaws of what had been following
You since you entered into this space
Now indulge in the reward for their patience…
O’ it hurts, but the ability to scream
Left you long ago…