If there is a place for solace
Would I find it in the smoothness of darkness?
Or in these paragraphs that are but late and empty tokens

By the soft, careful flow of your fur that borrows the color of the void
And of the light in your chest
That broke the gray of stillness
To bring the warmth and the cold, the fire and its absence

In the briefness of your gentle sigh
The resolve it must have taken
To withstand the tempest ravaging inside
While I remain as a lonely bystander whose hands has been cut by fate

There is no solace here nor elsewhere
I know this from the way things leave
From how they never return from the abyss
And there is no leap to take
For the other side is just a continuation of darkness
And the only movement left is to curl up in utter defeat
In order to gain back composure and muster that same resolve
To turn away from the sorrow of the edge
And into life once again

Like how the brightness of your name and being contradicts your color
We, too, have to understand
That in this disparity, the balance will restore itself
And that as we withstand this winter storm, we will feel that warmth once again