In sole streaking droplets, of quiet heavy solitude,
On vision's fading, blind lights wandered in lassitude. 

Wind's screaming past, on this path less travelled, 
Stinging cold bites, upon frail young flesh it mangled. 

Time the lone arbiter, an impassive patient master,
Of wandering shadows and drifting desires, mettle lacked lustre.

Pearly black beads, traced along these wooded hollows,
What are they but gods? souls lost to twisted gallows.

Author’s note : This year has been nuts but I’ve found time to get this out of my drawing board. Got so much more planned and this time I’ll hopefully stick to a loose schedule instead of these 6 – month long hiatus’s. To the reader I hope you have a pleasant day … or night ahead ^_^

TheLipid signing off !!!