Through winter’s pitch and icy mold
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No stranger story has been told
Of mem’ry past and déjà vu
From logic’s feint and thoughts askew.
I tracked my way through arctic path;
Stolid suff’ring of cold wind’s wrath.
When what could anguish have me see?
A slow, advancing peace decree.
He fought against this sultry storm
And in my scrutiny, wits inform
Of start’ling likeness and a charm
To which my thoughts they did alarm.
On ev’ry feature we did share
And to my mind this would declare
That we two pilgrims are the same:
Alike in plight and human shame.
My quantum equal glanced my way
And sight apparent was dismay,
For out he brought an olive branch
And sought he then my life to stanch.
He cried from past and veins of pain
On view of choice and pity’s shame.
He struck with might and knowledge blown
Of heartache, loss, and feeling’s bone.
Yet as my blood flowed to his need,
I stroked his cheek and then agreed
By merge to one, past sins forgive
And through this plight we justly live.
A snowflake hovered in the air
As mutual interest merged with care
And slowing winds of night and gale
Had borne the likeness of our tale.
My wintry path borne bold and true
Had vexed old scars of ancient hue
And seen a storm transcribed to light
As silence reigned throughout the night.