colorlessly shod i wander through space
looking for solace, looking for a place
to rest.

my whole soul shivering, i yet remain awake
expected disappointment my hope takes
away.

deserted by the bedpost i stay
until bathed in sunlight, sleep washes away
again.


there are two main seasons that spur me to poetry: the begining of winter, and the true beginning of spring. i could have guessed that the snow would come, but it still takes a minute to transition from the wire to the generator. it's okay though. i guess that we can't play forever. and the world, like everything else, needs its naps. thus we come to appreciate the time that we have to be awake.