It goes...

 It snows. Amid the broken bones

Of trees, the oaks, elms and the firs

The raging maw of endless white

Deep darkness, blinding, endless blight

Amongst the lifeless plain it roams

Forgotten and forlorn, like heavy stones

It rumbles down icy hills

And into lives of all it spills

The creeping loneliness, it robs

The last remaining spark, and hopes

And only way is not to pray

And only path is not to last

The only possible detour

Is but a candle lit, endure

Hold on to will, to dreams

Invent, inspire, until it seems

That end is but a shy blunt step

Away. And there you sway, adept

To failure and to loss

You lit the world on fire, tossed

In grinder of critique and fate

Your thought for one damned minute

Let others feel that they relate

And gimmicks

Do not blind their bleary eyes

And then your pitiful disguise

Burst open into flames

You dreamt, and offered nothing else.