On On

Silently, drifts the snow.
Waiting to suck the breath from a lone wanderer,
To melt onto his skin, and freeze him to the core.
Taunting him, and laughing at him,
"Go back. Go back. Go back to your home.
Give up. Give up. Give up, you're all alone."
The flakes jeer, and they sneer,
But the wanderer takes no heed.

On,on, he fights,
Through the ice, and the cold.
On, on, he stumbles,
Crunching the snow beneath his feet.

Tired of being ignored, the flakes' anger grows.
Play turns to predation.
Toy turns to food.
No longer a fight to move forward,
Now, a fight to survive.
Shown now is the danger,
Hidden now is the sky.
The sun lost, to a blizzard sea.

On, on, blasts the wind,
Cold, cold as the ice it blows.
On, on, flies the snow,
A flurry of white, sucking away every, last, breath.

"Fight! Fight! Fight us now!
Go on. Go on. Go on to your frozen grave."
They snarl and they curse, as the wanderer struggles.
Now, the ice, it, surounds him,
Distorting all that he sees.
He knows not where he is going,
Nor where he is, or has been.
Yet still he pushes into the heart of the storm.

On, on, he continues,
Struggling and falling.
On, on he fights,
Losing to the tempest winds.

Down, down falls the wanderer, down to his knees.
The snow claws at his hair, his face, his clothes,
As he throws back his head and yells to sky.
"Why? Why? What have I done?"
Tears fall from his eyes.
Tears hot against his icy skin.
He drops, limp, all color gone from him.
His body cold; cold as the ice around him.

On, on. goes his soul,
No longer tied down to Earth.
On,on, blows the snow,
Sucking away his life.

"Bury him. Bury him. Bury him now, beneath your breath.
Hide him. Hide him. Hide him now so that the games never end."
The flakes cry to the wind, as they whirl round, and around,
Incasing the wanderer in his casket of ice.
Hidden, now, frozen lost from the world,
Only to be shown in the warm spring thaw.
Shown, shown to the vultures, until bone picked dry,
until, again the game begins, and yet again,
Silently drifts the snow.