His face was White as the snow

falling down upon the old summit top.

For when Safety below calls to the Ascending,

She pauses long enough to ponder.

“onwards towards the suicide of Success or

return backwards to the reason of Retreat?”

Her face is now White as the snow

falling down upon the old summit top.

There are no voices that can be heard above the

swirling winds that quietly scream howling songs.

These symphonies arise only from within

his empty space where

her silence and shadows dawn.