Here Is He Stuck, Within An Icy Skull

Here is he stuck, within an icy skull. His cooling core yearns for the warmth of sun. He sits and sees the snowflakes blend and dull The rocky walls that trap the frozen one. Does he succumb to numbing apathy, Or fight winter, a battle for the daft? December flowers wilt like his decree To break the walls with fists and stabbing shafts. His shaking fists make weapons hard to wield. The beating turns his wrists to rigid casts. A golden ray leaks through the wall that shields And gives a glimpse of brighter sunshines past. Always his arms grow weak, his strength gives way, But still he tries again another day.