Description
‘Winter seemed conquering her spring;
the mind’s soil freezing gradually
to barren stagnation
Those who have sojourned at this spot,
know its stark climate
Its pitiless wastes
There is neither light nor growth
All human company is obscured by shadow
No rest is possible;
the atmosphere is full of demons
agitating the nerves to a pitch of frenzy
There is no calm;
the air is rent with a howling,
coming from the very centre of oneself
There is no escape;
We live in inhospitable climes
placing foot after weary foot
determined to go on until we find once more,
the light
The barren landscape persists;
We look on the thought of death with a quiet eye
With hope that some solitary soul
is peacefully rowed to the Land of Shadow
The fabric of the sky is fading;
we should build a nest for ourselves
With pleasant thoughts and good deeds
fashion a shelter for our souls
and with a blush,
the heavens will begin to groom themselves
for new days’
VaL Smit ©
