Thaw

Morning blooms; Purple skies descend

The candles burning; Burning at both ends

(I feel I am the shepherd)

Falling snow; Or is it frozen ash

Steadily squalls; Like the dripping wax

(Looking for his sheep)

A faded tundra greets my sight

My world of color now hopelessly white

(I may as well be blind)

An ignorant quest I can't take any longer

A conscious famine driven by the hunger

A fuel for the flame

Just to get me through this

Call me a glutton

But I starve for a purpose

Hard to have direction

In this dry sea of waste

When there's no rose

To guide me on my way

Instead I stare out for a beacon

An icon of hope to appear in the distance

(The omen) to see

(The omen) to believe

(The omen) a sign that my life has meaning

I await and gaze

And still there's no prophecy

Blind, finally I behold...