Give me the sun
That I might see
Give me the moon
That I might howl
Give me the stars
That I might wonder
Give me the cosmos
That I might be

Fire grows
In my limbs
To do
To act
To be

Its flames unbending
As I try to
Douse them
Quiet them
Shape them

What to do but
What they urge
What they cry for
What they demand

Let your body rest in the cool
Eat not of the frozen air
Wake not for the winter birds
Stir not for the dormant seeds
Lie still till the sun returns
And the snow restores you
And whispers of green float on the wind

Hunger takes me
Of a different kind
Than that sated by food
Thirst arrests me
Of a different kind
Than that quenched by drink
Pain wracks me
Of a different kind
Than that quieted by salves

I would
Walk
Run
Swim
Fly
Jump
Die
With you

The days shorten
As the sun grows distant
And the noises of a frozen earth
Begin their earthen symphony
Rustling
Cracking
Dripping
Howling
And I listen
As I slow
Until year’s dawn

The bird sings to me
As it sings to the tree
The tree, which holds the bird
The bird flys by me
As it flies by the squirrel
The squirrel, which plants
The tree, which holds the bird
The bird eats a worm
As it eats of the seeds
The seeds I have left for it
In hopes that it will sing to me
As it sings to the tree

Shadows threaten
They stand at the gates
They whisper through the windows
They mock and jeer
Must I listen?
Must I submit?
Or must I learn not to hear?

Or is there an in between?

A humming
Scratches at my ears
A sparse harmony
Long forgotten

Without beginning or end
It lingers
On dissonant tones

Yet it promises
In its quiet moments
To bring music
To alter the world