2002-10-10 - 12:37 p.m.
Sitting here, a chilling breeze sends icy fingers down my spine.
The cold bites at my hands and cheeks
and heart.
I can feel it approaching, seeping through spirit and flesh.
How long can I resist?
It would be so easy to give in,
to surrendor to silence,
embrace the chill of the dark.
No.
The flame is still alive.
To the end, I will cling to its warmth,
the song of my heart.
My strength.
My hope.
Yet,
still I feel the cold.
