In the quiet gloom and the peaceful darkness, we stoke fires within us to keep us warm. There are moments when the brand of toil and sacrifice presses into our skin, marking our suffering as a sign of life.
With graveyards built behind our eyes, we find the light dwindling as winter sets into our souls. The blue that led us this far becomes black in the absence of hope.
And yet, beyond the oppressive weight of the dying world around us, we find reasons to pay attention to what brightness remains. The gentle snowfall, the disappearance of our tracks. Where we've been never mattered so little.
In this erasure of our faults, under a blanket of new beginnings we find more clarity than ever. As the ice floats down from a kinder sky, the land beneath forgets that we were ever there.
