The vague contradiction of snow on a sunny day is disheartening once the air whips through you. The shallow look of a sky that's faded wears the bereft expression of winter.
The moon's countenance doesn't change; only I can experience the cold. It deposits remnants of joy with terminal lives, deepening the need for light.
When I relapse into daydreams of carnage and dull phantasms so does the realm around me, resurrecting false ghosts for bitter reproving in time for the changing season.
I bury my old pleasures like a jealous lover and metamorphose through ever-changing denial so that I am of one mind, as if I was never arrested by the winter's bleak authority. I refute the darkness and turn to shame to perfect a false perception of reality.
Such a pursuit is not awarded by happiness. However, I am found by it when my brave thoughts come to bear.
Cara Hawkins 12-7-09
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