Jul 15, 2017
Fisri
For the lost, forlorn and brave In Winter’s cold embrace The gripping fear Resuscitates Those empty, frozen fates.
And though the steely-hearted May not cry out in pain, The wicked won’t wear caution. Over quiet days
The sounds of ringing ears Belay the growing dread Of never knowing more - All the aching promises And lifetimes left unsaid The loss of life so poor - Of never having meant.
fisri - the feeling and object of steam when you breathe and it’s very cold.