Minute Rhythms

Blood moves in a trembling chaos,
Trafficked by the unrelenting bombardment of my steps,
Enveloped by dismal grays and biting winds,
As snow falls like confetti on the devils parade.

Forlorn shadows cast by vehement fires,
Each crackling and withdrawing with a humiliated haste,
Biting at mud encased gloves and echoing hollowed murmurs,
As snake-like whispers of snow spiral menacingly in my footsteps.

Icy gusts emanate from a blackened void,
And fall with exposed mercury.
As I take shelter against unforgiving stone,
Above are filtered voices and subtle cries.

My heart pumps a congealed life-force with finality.
Mammoth structures of business grays echo,
Towering hues of exuberantly etched divisions,
In glazed windows observing the battered ivory ground.

Skin turns to ash and blood to charred molasses,
As ground rushes to me in panic,
I close my eyes and drift back into the immense design of things,
And fire greets me with neon orange warmth.