My inner voice reckons
The chronicles of iceberg ends hence.
Its the end of morbid circumstance
inception of a new era
Germinating corolla amidst dripping snowy dew
escaping sunlight through a crack in the wall
trickle of water
like a drizzle to parched earth
New batteries to the flickering light
Renaissance of my adrift soul
Spirited I stand
Contemplating to earn wings
To fly to the Esylium
Of my Ultimate Solace.