Our Faces Flicker

Silent snowfields under December’s fog
Reflecting a pale sun
At the center of an iron sky.

Humanity holds its breath,
Sound buried under frost,
Fresh footsteps swallowed
By the thin crust of forgetting.

An inner furnace
Containing a red core
Warming our white bones.
Crackling branches burn,
Hissing the language of heat,
Embers remembering
An ancient glow.

Our molten past
Consumed.
Transmuted.
The dragon of dark residue
Must be heated into clarity,
Its black scales
Softening
Into drops of light.

We sit close
And warm each other
With our secrets,
Our faces flicker
With shadow and gold.

We welcome wild teachers
And all seasons
As part of ourselves,
Letting winter carve room
For a deeper spring,
Letting every cold emotion
Turn us inward
To the coal
That never stops burning.