The embers in the hearth stay aglow

As the wind howls and the sky erupts

In showers of ghostly, pale snow

As I look toward his golden face,

Reflecting the dancing of the flames

I see all the adventures I have yet to endure

And all the impossible places I long to explore

As I am briefly caught up in my own little world

I realize the average human being wouldn't understand

Quite how extraordinary it is to hold his rough, calloused hands

He closes his eyes momentarily and gets up from his chair,

A graceful movement beyond all compare,

Gazing out the shattered window at the disastrous weather

And in his eyes I see

All the moments that shape everything I hope to be

I see the emptiness in him, that exposes the light in me

He runs his boney fingers through his dusty hair

The whole night he has remained stiff and unimpressed

With my loud bursts of laughter and witty remarks of intellect

But as he opens the rusty old door,

The only body separating us from the raging storm,

I can see the amusement in his exhausted eyes

Like a psychopath before his victim dies

As he steps out into the cold night

Chills threaten my raw skin and crawl down my spine

I yell for him not to go

With only a small pause he says,

“I wish to be buried deep within the snow”

His determination, passion, and strength

Captivate me, mind body and soul

Some would think his insanity, to be the result of loving me

But his entire being, one could never hope to control

I look outside the window, as he wanders through the night

I lock the door behind him, wishing with all my might

That he finds the dream he’s looking for,

Even though it can't be completed with me

And I pray that out there on his own, he doesn’t give into lunacy

Picking up my quill, I record the details time and time again

And my dear you see, without poetry,

How on earth could I record such a marvelous entity?

How could I exist without writing the tale,

Of the man who lived within the winter sea?

Of the man who fell out of love entirely.