I’m waiting
for the cold to come
As Threads of Being long undone
The numbing
frosty Bitter Sweet
Ice cold
rain, mist Silver sleet
The frigid
air
The somber
sky
A silent Sentinel to my own demise
The Hawk and Owl
On branch
most high
Survey terrain
with steely eyes
They call
No answer
For none will
come
For I am
somewhere
Here, now
gone
The brain readdressing
Life breath
effervescing
Body in a state
of Grace
The look
upon this lifeless face
As discarded
orbs of Beauty lie
Heaped and tumbled
in muted Sighs
The candle sputters
Its wickered Glow
Reflected
on the fragrant Bough
The ground slight
trembles
As I settle
in
This new
found Vessel
A chambered bin
Alongside a next of Kin
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