Polished Spirit

There is a sadness in my soul
a gentle falling of snow
atop my bones.
Its cold reaches deep
and dulls what warmth
I’ve left inside my heart.
My mind falls victim to its solemn silence
and what is left is more shell
than body.
I wander the forests of my heart
now laden with snow
and I wonder where this front begins.
I reach for flakes, shards of distant and present memories
melt in my hand.
Not even here,
in Ginnung,
can love thaw my sadness.
To be unworthy,
is this the end?


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