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Deep into the frozen land we venture.

Holding hands with no words spoken.

Miles away mountain shadows grow as the sun appears.

Like old film stuttering and jumping we desperately hold to this place to this moment.

Fading between gusts of wind we taste the other side the other world the other dimension some might say.

Existing between worlds we see what will come or what has passed.

 

Copyright 2013 (c) William Ricci

Like the last leaf from spring
hanging on into winter,

or prairie grasses overcoming
snow and ice,

life hangs on to a tenuous
thread and each day is a gift.


At the dawn of each day
our past experiences
become memories frozen
in the depths of our mind,
kept safe until we need
a reminder of how we got here.

I watch the sun rise from
distant cold moving water.

White-capped waves emerge from the horizon
and over time they will arrive at my feet

standing on the rock strewn shoreline
covered in clear ice.

I imagine staying here through the passing months
when the deep winter takes hold of this

land and my body becomes one with the
water and the earth and from this

connection I am transformed back to
my birth state when I emerged from the horizon.

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Frozen in time.
Where do we go from here?

A chance to reassess our place.
What is beyond here?

Beyond here becomes what we choose.

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I now walk into your
arms, the words spoken
in passion, black wisps
of hair I brush away,
your eyes a light into the soul.

I now fall into your arms,
your breath against my neck,
I am vulnerable, exposed skin
waiting for your embrace,
I wait for you.

I walk into the wild,
the unknown territory
my heart longs for, the words
of freedom, swirling about,
motions in the air we reach
out to grasp, moments of
solitude, the chance to listen to
the wandering thoughts, the mind
opening up.

Into the wild, the backcountry
of my mind, the thoughts behind
actions of the heart, the soul
reaching out, a voice not
heard, but felt though vibrations.

Deafening silence as the wild
expands the further I emerge into
the tundra, lost and wandering
I keep close your scent and soft touch
upon my chest, the slight pulse of your
veins coaxing my heart to keep going,
during moments of weakness, when
the winter sun rises briefly and hurriedly
sinks, the horizon thinning and the darkness
returning.

I walk into the suns light
the golden sheet cradling me
with eyes closed I see your smile
and the words spoken without hesitation
and I am overwhelmed with pureness,
the honesty, the unflinching eyes.

I walk into the swift Sushana
river, with ice floes and glacial till,
you are there somewhere near the base
of the mountains I can see from here,
the rolling shadows frigid.

And I awaken next to you under
the flaring aurora borealis,
the flashes of opaque green and deep red,
sedge and willow glow and reflect
off the pure snow.

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A wanderer of the frozen lands,
I stopped at the edge.

A silence wrapped in wind
and ice scattered across

the valley and we took
shelter beneath overhanging rock.

In the morning after the fire
we hiked 7 days to the distant valley

steeped in legends of living spirits
and the black wolves guarding the way home.

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