A Winter Solstice poem

If autumn is a slow death
Then winter is her last step
Almost suddenly
Everything is gone
Life on the surface
Surrenders to frigid air
And gives up its breath, its color, its warmth

The last rose blooms
And dies
Fading color invites the
Long, cold silence
Where do you put hope
in the darkest days?
How does the world know
that light will come again?

Solstice of the sky, of the deep
Deep longings we hold
Inside the stillness
Break forth your light
Into days only dimly known
Carry life and grace
With every extra minute of
Bright new existence

In death we wait for
Light, in the hope of
Endings being only another
Turn of the circle
And dying being the first
Steps into something

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