I am rifting

To the depths of an icy cape thunders dense are the walls of this stone cold centre. Touched are the fragments lost to an ocean of darkness. Honing in and spreading out on a morrow that begs to rush into its now. Jolted at every turn dwarfed inwards these grooves sulked in and reaching further, these channels of vascular dread. Move me, for this laid-den crafted by frowns has passed. Bowing are the shreds of the past, stiffening down, prickling through the nerves inside my chest. Lighten my load and open my once sedimented and clayed heart. For that once stretched thin and winding road has become a vastness unfamiliar and dead to its own. Brewing are the teas of hope. Rising in the distance is a shrewd fog waiting to engulf us all. Make amends. Make amends. For that which we will not akin ourselves to will be brought down. Taste within those last meticulous breaths are rifting the two worlds.