Verdent Eyes With a Pitch Black Secret Destiny

You come to me now in a terminal descent into self loathing and laziness that only winter in a small town can epitomize, but I do not despair, for I know my many forms, all sinister and underneath the surface.

You might worry having seen all my many faces, all of them portraying something soft, amiable, but ultimately ambitionless.

You might see me limping, creaking, and quiet until I attempt speaking, an utter mumble, and a discordant stutter, but this my friends; this deceit is my bread and butter.

In your travels you may see me in this dead winter wood limping over gray rocks and crinkling leaves wearing rags, adorned with a beard, long locks, and what appears to be gloom.

Please, I beg of you, follow me to my destination. Observe the gloom and know that it’s of my own creation, the circumstance of idle time just a catalyst for my own operation.

Whatever trail I take, I try to end it by the nearby Susquehanna.
Whatever day I make this journey, the skies are grey and the air is cold.
Whatever day you follow me to seem my curious routine, be prepared for me to drop everything and fall to my knees with my arms spread.

Winter is the season that I use to fall, become frail, and take every blow in scrutiny.

Wherever your attention maybe, whatever thoughts will be preoccupying your mind once I have done this strange physical release, dispatch all senses to me as I turn to face you.

Do not trouble yourself with anything except the black fire behind my green eyes, the wills of a thousand lifetimes as I come off the ropes like a prize fighter and come out swinging for everything I love and believe in, every little passion chased, every moment drawn in, every tragedy put upon my shoulders, every burden lived with, every move I make will be something at a violent speed like that of the bull being run, and like the attack of a bull that’s been penned my body will be thrown forward at an alarming rate into the future that I desire more then anything.

This is not hope, this is not a wish, this is desire, a lust for life, and it will be because once you find this passionate fire there is no choice but to let it breathe, live, and just before every winter, consume you.