Winter, endlessly one reflects. Yet,
What stirs the visions the mind has shown?
The thoughts of past, of how I've grown
and how I'm now
alone.
Of all the dreams the heart desires,
the mystic bliss to which aspired--
Was the heart wrong to question?
The mind to long,
the spirit, the song--
now lost in misdirection.
These things the heart may never know,
emotions the soul may never be shown.
And so I walk
alone...
Through virgin white of fallen snow
alone
with my reflection.
Keith E. Sparks Jr.
Copyright © 2002
First appeared in the journal "Reflections"
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