The Winter Solstice
As I open my arms in the dark hours of winter solstice
I feel the cold hands of death brushing over my sensitive skin
gripping me tighter and tighter while my emotions freeze
denying me the basic right to fight for life while scorning my spleen.
Turning a blind eye to the paleness of my body
it keeps cuddling my frightened soul.
Laughing on the exactness of my life’s parody
death never ceases to highlight the trademark of its role.
Turning deaf ears to my muffled screams
it keeps tapping on my riven heart
watching me so helpless its appearance gleams
promising to slice every fragment of my frame apart.
After an endless struggle against the dominance of death
I finally seem to let go the fear it had instilled.
And as I am counting my final breath
I see myself at peace and my favorite longing finally fulfilled!