Doomed slackly to a benumbed branch so barren,
Dangling in faith, I, the only unfrequented lantern.
No more bright tinges for eyes, but pallor for hue;
Burning up in winter, a colossal penance I pursue.
The knavish snow slants on my hoary shoulders,
Cloaking my spark with its lily-white gelid borders.
Withal I go- thawing soft, this frost-bound night…
Lighting the roll down of darkness, bilking my sight.
Jugging the hot ambers in me, whipping my core,
Maneuvering I am, for you to attain your shore.
Image courtesy: Google.
Strings of Soulfulness 