Winter and Summer

The cold, its tendrils of wind
like fingers wrapping my coarse being,
the snow, like needles prickling my skin.

The warmth, its blossoming beauty
like a flower in May, the sun is kneaded
in my tender hands to become
strong and bright.

The warmth rises from within me
and shines, and the cold nods away
into dusk, awaiting. I exist beside
the fingers of icy breeze, but let my
inner warmth and light push any darkness
away from seeping inside of me, radiating,
pushing with soft rays of yellow light.

I am a vivid, beautiful light in the seamless
dark that I allow to surround me, yet
never engulfing me. I am whole.