Words: 90

Title: Winter’s Fury/(Primal Beat)

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The beat is primal,

The dark, deep, woodsy sounds,

The frantic scraping at the walls.

Winter’s icy hatred,

It’s roaring, broiling, clawing motions.

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We are taught to beware Winter’s cold,

Winter’s fury, but the motion,

The fast, frenetic, sensual rhythm,

Is inside all of us, pounding to be released.

So many are afraid of letting go,

Of letting that ancient music take over,

Of allowing a sound older than our time to control.

So many are afraid of going to that place inside themselves,

That old, old, so primeval place.