Walkin on Air

Frosty Warm Hideout

Verdant greensward carpets paradoxes of frosty snowblankets
wrapping my mind's eternal shivers
with comfy tufts of soothing, ‘quilty' down
hibernating in the recesses of forlorn love
nobody considers valuable,
and yet,
the balmy breezes of nocturnal sunshine
warms the icicles hanging as stalactites
dripping drearily their venom of bitterness
to form stalagmites of forgiveness.

But look! Hear! Oh, the tiny brisling brook's
blathering on and on about soft surrender
in view of the overwhelming evidence
Mother Nature adores her children
as life recycles regurgitated cold death
in spurts of rising sap and budding surprises,
which conquers all fear.

What then am I to do?
Rush from a scathing sauna into heaps of frozen watercrystals?
Roll unashamedly in the snow
till my body glows?
Slumber serenely, sedated by whispers of Lovelight
promising blessed forever after futures
faceted by the kaleidoscope of ground-reality
beckoning me to simply let gravity
pull me into a grave?

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Frosty Warm Hideout

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