Beautiful ashes, scattering about on the early morning breeze; A solemn frigid welcome is what was expected, An overcast sky and a lingering dawn. It is a new day but night seems to persist; Each season seemingly more turbulent than the last. Persistent night, made bearable only by merciful flashes of Light.
It begins in the depths; Sounds like a struggle at first, then it breaks free… It is a little spring with the force of a mighty volcano; It is a sound with a single note, Communicating a singular message – Victory!
It begins at the sight of the finish line; With each additional step it soars in might, Bolstered on by the sound of the rushing winds Till it gloriously erupts at the breaking of the tape.
It’s a minute to midnight, I’m watching the clock tick-tock its way to a new dawn; Trying to capture the exact moment of the transition; This wouldn’t be my first attempt, Though each time I’d managed to miss the tangibility Of that sharp dividing line separating old from new.
Sometimes I wish everything would come to a standstill – A moment of silence to acknowledge the passing of a season. Sometimes I wish there would be a tremor Through the fabric of existence, To signal the birth of a new cycle.