Darkened glass recalls a mirror,
strangely alien and black- a
perfect reflection nonetheless.
the dark, it winds around the sky
a blanket of suffocation,
harkening the bitter cold of an endless night.

the few daylight hours are spent
being blinded by a blanket of
white-hot brightly lit frigidity
known as the snow.

and
the
wind
whisps
through
hairs plastered on your face,
frostbitten nerves nonexistant
until their ever rude awakening.

the early morning recalling the
late night recalling the late morning
in the middle of the afternoon,
this repetitive droll that is december.
there are only a few hours til tomorrow comes
but this moment has felt like darkness since
conception; the last light was filtered through
this toxic instablility of atmosphere
hours ago.
we wait like children for the dawn to break
to drink in the precious drops of whatever
we can grasp.

oh how glorius the light shall be,
where the darkness of now may slowly be
replaced by the birth of another year,
fetal children-
amniots
will awake with a cry.
and we are either resolute to create something better
(of ourselves)
or destined to be the abortion of the year,

12/01/2003

Author's Note: i'm still tinkering with this one; it will be my entry to the december contest, but i'm looking to improve it. any constructive crit you have would be most appreciated. thanks!

Posted on 12/02/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams