My salvation

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    My salvation

    A cool winter's wind starts to blow, and beneath my feet I feel the snow.
    The air fills my lungs, so intoxicating.
    I become so cold, my body is aching.
    Im frozen here all alone as my mind ponders the unknown.
    I try to move but I cannot, it's even harder than I thought.
    Now I am contained within the ice, my body's warmth will not suffice.
    A prism of light shines through a tear. I've driven everyone way, there's no one near.
    My life force is fading fast, too much longer... I will not last.
    The sun's rays give me hope
    But I am unsure that I can cope.
    Then a voice inside whispers not to fear, I'll be all right, salvation is near.
    Suddenly the ice around me begins to melt, and I forget the way it felt.
    A temptatious feeling floods my viens, and before I know it, It starts to rain.
    I close my eyes and let it go, and let this sweet rapture take over my soul.

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    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

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