The darkness lingers longer now that Gods favourite country falls out of prime-axis, and it makes me want to kill myself.

Dawn taunts me just above the horizon, piercing my eyes and riding the tops of trees in distance yonder as I lay in my nest, squinting back in an intimidation battle I have yet to win. And with it all comes the cold, whereupon I wither yearly and shall again.

But not all is lost. I have my defences, my shield, my armour, my love. Ask any fire fighter and they'll tell you to fight fire with fire, a mantra and view I have adopted for winters: I gobble ice cream.

With freeze internal comes warmth eternal in a bitter and biting world so harsh upon the skin, where I am the last man who can spread eagle upon the hills to welcome the coming sun as it glistens through the falling snowflakes. The ice inside me makes me at one with the world, putting me into a deepest Zazen level of concentration with my heart beating to the rhythm of the tide, where I transcend the need for all my Earthen posessions, housing, comfort and food.

With me a storm bubbles away like the boiling broth of a bubbling froth in a bad analogy, uncontained and loose without supervision from shackles once bestowed as punishment but since freed with the awakening in the mind. It's not a matter of when, but if, the alignment shall be pure of nature. Unfortunately such things are as predictable as others aren't and, well, isn't life all the better for it?