It is not pain I feel within it is the winter wind from East Siberia which is here now the wind is more than cold numb expansive vast empty a chill for ever unhinged by searching any hazy horizon seeking a desperate wasteland for a Madness of a new life which will declare me make me humanly sane lost through the wandering I am cold as her body laid in shallow earth damp in the fine continuing rain which turns to snow frozen together in time as I walk the shore a friend passes me unable or unwilling to recognize me afraid to see the loss she might find in my eyes lost in the confusion of love's imaginings Stumbling almost blind through the midnight frost the fears of generations passed one to the next surround me my dog and her bark art with me and I fear no evil strangers hands reach out to touch me there to bring a temporary stay an ecstasy of relief in times past I have to admit to have taken some comfort there but now it is for a price I cannot afford for its true delight is in the rebellion it speaks of a small revolt against the fear by which we live and there is no joy in that my dog waits patiently ever ready to leave telling me it is the time and we must go that is the promise of unconditional love memory is lost all thoughts of human life abandoned
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