Ice is upon me, in my season of snow.
Harshly the high and cold winter winds blow.
Flowers that fell as their beauty retired
shadow the glory of days more admired.
Coursing much lower, the shy hasty sun
tersely appears on a brief rapid run,
increasing darkness on the face of the deep.
A sign that foretells of an impending sleep.
Stilled by surrender that seizes the soul
creating reunions of parts with the whole.
Promised hope held in this symbolism
teaches the lesson of Nature's baptism.
Lain down to rest with its fervor subdued,
rekindled, the phoenix arises renewed.
Wondrous this message that comes from afar,
brought by magicians that followed a star.
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