Oh, dear loneliness.
My misery suspended in the early morning,
Obstructed by the rising winter fog,
And beneath the intense silver glare,
The ancient moon of the wolves,
I let go, to meet you again.
And there, ahead, loomed a steel bridge,
It spoke in creaks and grumbles,
As the tide of nebulas in the dawn effect,
Rolled and swirled across the shattered land,
And in opaque shadows, an oasis of trees,
Danced and bowed in the icy breeze.
I could feel my intimate isolation,
Where the massive bridge endured and yawned,
Over a sheer canyon draped in darkness,
And the trees grasped to protect a forged secret,
Where you, calmly awaited for my approach,
As echoes bemoaned in the chasm’s steep hollow.
A rain began its decent from hanging clouds,
Freezing into crystals of ice,
Inside each contained the fear of beasts,
As the ironed bridge draped in the winter’s web,
And I, my dear loneliness, ached for the comfort,
Of release and restoration.
I crossed the void of truths, tangled with spiders,
The bridge moaned and gently swayed,
With each step I was pulled to,
And you rose, one with the shadows,
Bearing the fog and rain,
As everything stilled. Waiting.
The world’s axis tilted, Venus glimmered,
And the morningtide ebbed and flowed,
Against the distant plateau’s horizon,
The night’s ceiling lifted, then parted,
The trees broke in glacial glass,
In whispers of constriction and crackling.
And you, Oh my profound warden,
Enfolded me to your chest,
And there, amid the last of the dark,
On the edge of nothingness, against cold steel,
With the rallying cry of the gray wolf,
I left it all there. In the frost. With you.