1 min.
“The Tundra”
Empty ice out there for all to take, or maybe only me.
Out there alone for heaven’s sake, with hell thrown in for free.
The creative tundra of the mind, the sweetest trap of all.
Both golden heights out there to find, and failure’s searing fall.
Logic, sense, or reasons right, are never found out in the snow.
Just creation’s endless risky flight, and all there is to know.
No one to help and no way back, when reaping what’s been sown.
When far out on the glorious track, you are making on your own.
You know you’ve gone out far enough, when too far to return.
And despite the ice it gets so tough your sanity starts to burn.
Only ever feeling right, past the edge of where you’ve…
