In Realms of Snow and Sky (Poetry)

No sound — the silence presses cold on light,
the curve of the horizon slides away
and footprints track the length of each long day’s
trek across the shifting fields of white.

No markers in this emptiness, no signs,
the journey is by compass point and stars —
their plotted course has dragged their loads this far —
a barren place, uncoloured and unkind.

No going back — the point of no return
long-past, a grim acceptance now prevails —
outside the tent a harsh wind whips and wails
and ice creates its world of monochrome.

No other tracks but theirs — no other life
in evidence — no hunter and no prey —
they are alone, adrift like castaways,
fate balanced on the edge of some vast knife.

No given reason and no foolproof plan
explaining what they’re seeking or what gain
they hope will come — enduring fear and pain
for freedom that inspires the inner man.

No answer but the spirit’s soft reply —
the journey for its own sake and the quest
that singles out the brave and drives the best
onward through the realms of snow and sky.