Giving form to the idea that came at the end of the previous post:
The winter of gloom
It is dark, it is cold; the torment,
unbearable; Vision clotted, path unclear,
The distance resounds with doom-
Wind's song, an unsettling roar
Forms mistaken for what they are not
rouse fear, suspicion and agony; Cant tell
man from foe, angel from ogre
friendless is this journey
This is the winter of gloom, the night
of delusion; nothing is here what it seems
hope is the only comforter that
conjures up an escape
the shivering lips of the traveller
give form to hope that lights his heart:
'Sun of Truth, shine upon this Soul-
O when will I see summer?'
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