---

All that has been asked is that I let go

of the ground that defines me and the roots that uphold.

obscure my identity under feet of falling snow,

abandon the tumultuous soil in which I struggle to grow.

Rotten roots,

though they may be,

they are mine, mine indeed.

lost... and faceless in the north

in a labyrinth of pine

11 months since our goodbyes.

Losing track of time.

Endlessly searching mountains and valleys,

craving identity.

A shining glimpse and now torn away

for a short eternity.

Hissing winds through the trees,

howling winters whip my home,

the warmth of whiskey taints my throat.

Another night in the woods alone...

Swallow the pain,

trudge on into the dark,

no time for fears caress.

Take a deep breath,

close my eyes,

and bash on regardless...

(A lament to distance)