The Turn of the SeasonsFloating against the tides in a sea of concrete,Among the faceless bodies of unholy transmission.I am a wilting roseIn a precious moment.The freeze creeps in, shaking me to my thirsty roots.I can barely breathe, my ascension will soon come.Each gust, piercing, shattering and unforgettable,Silently and full of unseen sorrow, my vision dims.I was once beautiful.....