Into the cold wind I stare with hate <br />Until it forces me to abdicate <br />I cannot see my enemies face <br />But in the trees I see his trace <br />As he whispers in my ears <br />A reminder from long lost years <br />His cool caress on my face <br />Immortal wounds the wind does trace <br />It speaks of heaven and screams for grace <br />At last I turn again for one more taste <br />Wisdom whispers and leaves it trace <br />Along the almost frozen ground <br />I struggle mightily to hear the sound <br />The author heard but cannot be found <br />Whispers reminders of sins and love <br />Are mixed with his body and blood <br />Are all mingled into his eternal love<br /><br />Brian Kilpatrick<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/abdicate/
