Literature

Ode to Winter’s Cold

This winter has overstayed its visit.
My soul freezes at the thought that I have run out of spring.
My heart is clouded with the heaviness of a thousand ice sheets, and my mind is lost thinking of a forsaken warmth.
Ah, even the air kills me inside, because breathing makes me lose the essence.
Esence that once had you, in all your splendor.
But now you are gone.
Leaving my lamp without oil, only for its last flame to go out in the storm.
Leaving my grove without branches, only for it to get lost in the breeze of dried leaves.
But I’m still here.
Waiting.
Patiently waiting for that morning when the sun rises again.
And for it to shine, like never before, in all the expansion of heaven.
And it will shine, for you and me, shedding new light into our lives and making all flowers bloom.
But I need of you to make it happen.
So come.
Come to me.
And clear the frost that the scorching cold of your departure left in me.
Come.
Come.
To me.
Just…
Come…

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