Fresh winter morning

fresh winter, sleeping in stars, turning constellations,

hopes linger within, struggling

where came the dark crowd out of? to destroy all seasons,

in the decay of its history

beginning, aye, a camp fire, burnt offerings, and women sacrifices

dead now, and dreaming

when i saw your smile of rejuvination when you saw me

now in you all things illumine

came in sleep, upon a dream woman, your many seasons,

turning history,

I but craft your gift, and swore upon this spirit,

i’d find a way to help us all