[WayzataJOHNN]

Berg

Ice, far as the eye can see,
empty whiteness sculpted by wind,
ruled by the hand of bitter cold.

Here only starkness seems to be,
a terrible loneliness so sterile to find,
and seemingly ancient beyond old.

Floating upon a grey flat sea,
the ice moves to wind and tide,
a white juggernaut so brittle cold.

Silent, patient voyager in Fate’s lee,
adrift, alone, upon a trip it must abide,
only Coronus knows its age so old.

[Soaring Feather]

Berg



WOW great poem. Gives me the shivers.