One Who Knew Winter

Tentative as I am, and yet,
somehow one has enraptured
within and without, past the concrete,
this captivated soul so close to departure.

I could taste it on my lips,
total abandon, burning, bitter,
drawing in to flood my veins and
harden me, a blind-eyed child of winter.

Who but a standalone product of this earth
could penetrate this grey world of stillness?
And, one in the same,
relieve the shadows, bearing brilliance?

It was not the singer or the dancer
or the painter, nor the mage or sage or God Himself--
It was the one who knew winter
and could draw from it summer's wealth.