A gushy wind carried the dust.
Large obsidian rock lay still.
I buried my heart in the cold
Where freezing wind past me by.
In that cold, my heart was warm.
At least warmer than what’s been.
Then I listened,
I listened to the winds of solitude
Gushing in the distance.
With them came liberation.
The cold brought a certain warmth.
And I wrote while I shivered
I was alone, I was sad
But I was okay.
Solomon