January, fickle month, dangling enticing offers of indelible change.
Two faced God, turning pious wants, guilt laden passions to life of dearth.
I am being, eclipsed by futile doing.
I cling to your promise, curse your passing, evidence of my failure.
When surrendered to February love, indulgence excused in romantic promise.
Healing love lit days lengthen, spring tantalizes, summer beckons.
I repent sweet January, patient teacher, loving friend of present being.
Tis not your dark cold I fear, but my unrealized whorl.
This is known as the Hidden Galaxy, isn't it beautiful.