Seasons of a new sun

Season of the new sun

Days of my life float in the cracks of my mind,
an indistinguishable second transcends the present,
again I’m gripped in the agony of a heartache memory.
The bitterness at the end of my winter season,
gnaws on my hardened heart and bites at my soul,
frozen and numb I lay and I pray,
awaiting the warmth of the season of the new sun.

This darkest, blackness of my night,
almost willing to bow to the coming light,
the slow dull beats of my heart,
is the only life I hear in the silence of my grief,
life almost sapped from within me,
I wait and I listen for the sounds of the universe,
to awaken me so I might hear the season of the new sun.