eternally ephemeral [ poetry & prose ]

Warmth

T i c k  t o c k
the seconds move
too slow
the moments
rush by in a daze.

It’s frightening
how much changes
when nothing changes
and the days elapses
with no signs of the
warmth of the sun
in the biting hues of blues
of the blurry winter mornings.

A chilly bite of the cold
awakens the brightly
illuminating star inside
the soul, a signal perhaps,
to never let go of it.

To keep holding on,
to keep watching out
for the burst of rays
through the heavily
looming clouds.

T i c k  t o c k
the dark curtains
will rise any
moment now.