At the Mercy of Frost

It is a new madness

knocking our door this time

hasty, passionate and with an indescribable rage.

None of us needed a glance at the other

for its rage was far more familiar

than any other tune echoing inside these walls;

yet it was a brilliant new madness.

When the frozen tear touched the wound on your hand

it was the prettiest snowflake my eyes had even known

yet our minds had wandered off on a too long a path

to turn that mesmerizing beauty into anything

but a cold moment of relief on the dashing red on your hand.

The roads lost their destinations to the storm.

Our footsteps started disappearing

and the winds...

The winds they stole away every song we had ever sung,

as they had already taken away the song of every tree on our path.

It was the new madness

not letting the wounds on your hands heal

knocking eagerly on a door it most certainly did not intend to open

and walls resonating to its vicious knocks

brick for brick, column for column.

Words started to flee from in between the bricks.

Every intention behind every thought sought shelter at the serenity of oblivion.

The dazzling look in your eyes gave in to the resonance,

when I wished upon...

It did not matter.

I just wished upon.

I wished.

It was the moment I realized I still had the will to make a wish.

I finally heard every single knock on the rotten door;

It was a whole new madness.