Sunny, frosty morning, here comes the cold of the Voodoo, the sharp pain of the spell, the tired out piercing and the dulling of sensations follows. As if life was just some long running and confused celebration.
In some other place a ghostly lion avoids sleep, day dreaming in the hope of finding heat as outside the windows the world spins by and the trapped and frozen lion wonders why.
I don't talk to the early morning trees as they never listen. Cold shards break the light and the day times awaits the coming of the night. Spring will be along soon, green and fragile will return. The persistence of seasons shines through as we dream of warmer mornings and a brighter noontime. Bees and insects, birds and flowers, only away for a few short hours.
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