Friday, December 21

winter.

as if on cue,
a perfect white frosting of pure, freshly driven snow
is falling softly to welcome winter to the woodsly goodness.
now that's timing, duders.
i got up early,
hoping to bear witness to the world's end swan song of civilization,
as one cygnet signals to another the trumpets of ugly truth and grand finales.
instead,
i'm surrounded by silent night and hexagonal crystals of mathematical magic.
awwwwwwwwwww.
neighbors,
it's the solstice again.
the darkest and deepest one.
today is the day, i suppose;
and whether or not it's the very first or the very last,
it's the best worst one so far.
the ley lines of overlapping spirits and memory are making snow angel halos
of ghost circle frost rime,
riding along on concentric echoes of secret universal smoke signals,
and the mirror imagery of light and dark has hit it's nadir.
tomorrow is the same as yesterday,
in terms of day and night, and endurable durations of doo-doo butter,
but today is all by it's lonesome.
-
and speaking of lonesome.....
i'm ringing in the solstice soulless and solo.
hey there!
yep.
that's me.
headed headlong into an even deeper and darker place,
and doing it all by myself.
winter's splinters are embedding themselves in the roots of the mountains
far below this fresh skin of snow and ice.
today.
that's when it starts,
or ends.
all of it, all of the time;
never quiet, never soft..... 

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