A winter poem

A dear friend has left us to pursue another dream
leaving behind a trail leading out of eldorado
and into metamorphosis

Suddenly spaces seem empty and desolate
and within echoes the low drones of winters grasp
forever whispering

And from the deepts of the chasm rises another roar
not out of anger, not out of spite
The world spins on a crooked axis

The World it spins too fast