I trudge through heavy snow, it's refusing to stop falling a reminder of things come and gone.

I see it begin to let up and a flare of hope briefly flashes within.

Now I stare forwards dauntless in refusing to stop or go back, much like the blizzard ahead, letting up is no longer in either of our cards.

The hope here and there is gone and done, now only grim resolve.

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The ice and snow may believe the battle over and won, but I know otherwise.

I feel cold, colder than I ever have in my long journey through the snow.

I no longer feel my fingers and toes, I briefly feel fear of the frostbite coming.

Suddenly I've grown weary, my vision is fading, this may be my end.

Maybe at one point, I would've given up here, the snow would've taken me, I am no longer that person.

That person is dead in the snow, having died long ago.

So here I and old Jack frost stand trading blows as we always do.

If I'll ever prevail I don't know, all I can do is further venture down the only path I know.

So I continue my melancholy March further into the heavy snow.