Winter's Guide Poem by Archaeus Six

Taken in hand,
And moulded to form,
A winter's scene still and heavy,
A journey wild,
And marked unwise.

"To the centre" I asked,
The most derelict guide,
Who loved the drifts and scornful winds,
Who sang the future,
To frozen tide.

His footprints erratic,
The lessons bewilder,
Though with time a deeper vision,
My will, with less revision.

I feel apprenticed without purpose,
Mutter meanings as it passes,
Bring the sun of summer's promise,
As forever learns its way.

He speaks, so I listen,
To the fears I have not christened,
As if courage will bring the end,
As if love would be the mend.

It's clear I am a child,
In the vast expanding rthym,
Yet his tireless aim is comfort,
Leaving trust throughout the colours.

There's no telling why the wonder,
In these cold awakened shores,
Call the foolish to their travel,
Straying quiet and softly on.

I grip,
And I cherish,
Knowing strength will soon perish,
Giving all to the arrival,
Of my one and only wish.