Even as I succumb to this feeling
of complete

Even as I resign myself
that I am helpless
to stop the unfolding of Armageddon
the unraveling of magnificence
the spoiling of the feast

Even pushing with all my body against the flow
Even screaming as loud as my lungs will blow
Even running cheetah fast

I cannot change the plights of the past
no more than I can make the light last
as December nights encroach into day
nor leap the hurdles thrown my way
I can only let this energy slip away

while waiting for Winter Solstice
to bring this promise
that no one can steal or squander:
Tomorrow will be just a little bit brighter
than today.