At Winter's End

The bite of winter, reaching its climax in the closing months
In recent days the dreamer has been walking in place
Clearing out past ways of thought, erasing methods that no longer worked
For years, the insanity of his persistence left him perpetually cold
Winter lived in his soul year round, keeping his dreams on ice
Breaking the cycle of his once foolish whims, Realizing that he was wrong all along
Answers to questions he never asked, whisk at his dirty, trodden feet
Keys to doors he never opened are secure in the pockets of his faded jean
A new path set before him, for he witnessed the change in the landscape
Mountains that led into yonder valley, now peaked into little more than small basins
Closing his eyes, he feels great warmth on even this frigid day
His path is lit in a blaze of  triumph, no mere mortal stands in its way
Realizing he's written all these journals in third, he laughs just a little
He has spoken of himself as if someone else was writing his story
Maybe in a way, someone was, a different soul spoke with a pen
A man that was blinded by things he could not see
The dreamer reached up and touched his tired face
He felt the mask of time, the one he put there to hide from the world
He took it off and cast it to the ground, It shattered with great sound
Closing up his sack, he started walking, never looking down at the broken false face
The last story told in this endless journal, More likely the first of the new.......ED