Head Full of Flames

"Save me

'Cause I'm still sinking

You've got a harbor

Close to the shore" 

--Mazzy Star, Quiet, The Winter Harbor from Still EP (2018) 

 

 

Bellows, George. Love of Winter. 1914. New York City.

    Adorned in efflorescent plumage, the lanterns that once orbited in rings of inquisitive light, seem to dim as the hours drag by the thread of scarves. Birds will no longer beckon the call against the sharp familiarity of Night's embrace. The hours are stretched and worn down with the unanimous experience of growth; my, how my legs have wobbled and towered until it's nothing but a stark skeleton crawling on all fours. 

  Deny me of time and I will plead for Winter to ignore the wicked ways of her strayed and frozen heart; I want to continue dreaming in colours that were never created instead of facing snow-peaked mountain-tops that suspend continuity of life. Tarnished by the bleakest tune, the wind will only sing songs of hollowed drear: the kind that ages man into an everlasting repetition of hibernation. 

  Serenade me in glistening, white canticles, for I'd rather be visible for Death's blanket of dark to coddle the light from my being. If Winter aims to deny me of a simple grace, the candle's wick will plummet to the depths of its contained heat; we wouldn't want the light to die out, now would we?