Frost gnaws up from the ground;
The sunrise he sees is ashen.
Anticipation flares to desire,
Dead winds tear through his hair.
Tumbling currents strike daylight;
The solar sneer illuminates his breath.
He has no need for helm or weapons;
The long march rusted them away.
The daylight is blinding;
It obscures his vision.
The sky is lined of azure crystal;
Its anxiety fervescent and tangible,
The world inhales above him.
The daylight is blinding;
It blots out the future.
His silent chrysalis in release;
Invisible armour grows around him,
Crowned by two smouldering embers
Flickering, alive, in his eyes.
The thoughts rush ever faster,
The words all the closer.
No return.
The daylight is blinding;
He longs for the solace of night.
No one comes forth to retell this story;
He stands before his battlefield,
Too scared to close his eyes.
The daylight is blinding.
But he surges ahead.