Frozen

Their musher lost
On a frozen terrain
Five dogs crossed
Their reins on his pain

Nothing to taste
No feeling to hold
Nothing to waste
Before his soaring soul

And only his sight
Of sun on the snow
And the white blinding light
Of the last picture show.

A motionless figure
Speeding through space
The circles spiral bigger
In heavenly grace.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: spirit
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