Winter Palace Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

I was falling down a mountain when the rain stopped,
nobody was there to hold my hand,
a voice in my head spoke softly,
with words I could not comprehend.

Then outrage struck under a hemorrhage sky,
emotions brewed blue with quiver heart,
beguiled tears cleaved onto snowy ground,
For my true love was gone.

What am I to do asked my uncertain mind,
When I have betrothed youth to an uncanny man,
gifted a faberge troika as an alter,
a debauch winter palace for his spoils.

Wisdom plagues with fury,
blindness enlightens the soul,
it is during this darkness that one sees clarity,
well beyond the shadows of a thick forest.

Sunrise ascends deep within these woody hills,
where silence reigns and the moon is queer,
quiescent answers scour about burnish ash,
Maccabean prayers that awaken heroism.

Only then will peace stultify pain,
Harness character from its fire,
Birth a soldier of solidarity,
In a world of altruistic womanhood.