This Winter

This truth was yours―
not mine. I was
fighting a lone battle.

Have seen―
the legends, tall claims,
of tumbling heights.

In my aloneness
I am searching myself
for the page of testimony.

Walked in pain,
to find you― O god I wanted
to believe in you.

Acceptance. The
world forgets. We talk of
paper dreams. There was no
green tree.

My hands were papyruses.
Who had drawn out
the mystery lines?