Flakes the size of fireflies sparkle and flame
In a fire of shadows. The world ablaze
With conspiracy, sick with wars, corruption,
Good and evil being turned upside down.

And what about the fiery eyes glowing
From the wings or the hissing wind
That breaks the good fingers of the hemlocks?
I listen for answers. They fall hard like the bullets

Of snow that sting my face. And when an arsenal
Of hot tears burns through me, it’s the cold
Light of the new-year ice that burns
Across the landscape. I look anew

At the way the tracks carve the path,
Backwards and forwards in a flood of schemes.
My hands tied, half-dead from the hurry
Of voices stalking greedy themes. I try counting

My steps. They grow long and the frozen air
Grows thick with change. How to explain it?
Its course unpredictable, the current obstinate, tricky,
Untamed. It runs oblivious and constant.

It wears no shape other than time, no taste, no smell,
Simply a wheel rolling through generations
Ground in symbols. When the world sickens
From the grinding sound, what will it seek?