White Out

A claw closing in around us.

And waiting.

As it always has been.

Waiting for a reverence,

I cannot give it.

I can't understand,

Let alone be it.

It is too strange for me and

I am too far away.

There is a moment when all is lost to it.

We are an island surrounded.

And we are too difficult.

It is a pleasure.

It is a loss.

To be so cut off.

To be so stranded.

The white has eaten the green.

There is nothing left.

Even the light basks in its glory.

Even the light is not its own.

We all have to be difficult.

We all have to be strange.

But most of all,

We all have to be lonely.