Every Cold December

I have lived with one foot in the grave

For as long as I can remember.

There are flurries of peace

And light rains of rest,

But the night always comes,

At Death’s behest.

The sun will come, and clouds will clear

But until then, Death is near.

And how long, after all, can I expect to last?

Within this night that is so wide and so vast?

Because the time will surely come

When the darkness feels too dark

And the ground turns quicksand

While all along the voices carp

In the vastness so grand

And the pain, titanium sharp

And too much

And too much

And too much

And too much

Death lives with me, walks with me, echoes

in my head.

He is my most attentive enemy, and ally,

and friend.

I feel him deeply; he has taken root

A perennial growth that keeps growing

shoots

It’s too much

And too much

And too much

And too much

How long can I beat him back,

That enemy and friend,

How long can he lurk

Until my eyes go blurry

And he gets to work–

Then comes the flurry.

He exists in all realms,

At all angles,

From every side

At every helm

On every ride

Playing his knell

How long, I think, how long?

That is the question.

How long will he fight?

How long can I last?

How long is this night?

Will it be my last?

I have lived with one foot in the grave

For as long as I can remember.

There are flurries of peace

And light rains of rest,

But the night always comes,

At Death’s behest.

How long, I think, how long?

That is the quest.

How long is this night?

How long is this fight?

How long will I have to stay

How long do I have to pray

For a new day to begin

And the sun to shine again?

And yet I know in my heart,

That even the sun does not keep him away.

He is always there, always in the shadows.

A predator stalking prey through the

darkness of the gallows.

Waiting for the time to be right

To again, establish the night.

I have lived with one foot in the grave,

For as long as I can remember.

And will continue to brave the day

Until my fire has burnt to embers.

How long will I last, I wonder.

How long til the fire is rent asunder?

As long as I feed it, I know.

As long as I feed it, it will grow.

If the sun can never truly erase the night

It is up to me and my fire to keep the world

bright.

And the night will fade again,

And again,

And again,

And again,

And again.

I have had one foot in the living world,

For as long as I can remember,

But that is all I need,

To burn through every cold December.