Switzerland

“Et nunc cedo equidem pugnasque exosa relinquo.”

I do not see the mountains standing strong,

indifferent, cold above the humming fray,

nor see the clean streets tainted by the throng;

Yet blinded by the snow, I see the way.

Death becomes this broken clock, released

from time and all its works; eternity

compels the soul, and brings it to the feast

of self-surrender and finality.

“The door is always open”, said the sage,

And through that gaping portal go the chaff,

detritus, misfits, freaks of every age;

As I go with them, fate can only laugh.

The winter dark bestows its final kiss;

The wise man smiles, and points to the abyss.