Biting cold and numbing wind,
Bowing forward to the frozen night,
It is man and the rising snow,
And man is lost
Without support.

There is little less threatening
In the wilderness,
Than feeling your tomb
Shroud round you in ice.
Breath freezes before your face
As the world closes in,
And darkness begins to fall.

It was a trip which had been cloaked
In rumors of snow,
But the flurry was said to be light,
So, true to character,
As he was a man so strong;
No fear,
No sense,
Only death looming in the night.

The blizzard is a foe
With fickle bag of tricks;
Disorientation,
And in the end,
Hypothermia and an odd sense of calm,
As man stands naked to the elements
 In the rising storm,
Believing that he is warm,
As the temperature of his body falls.

One foot after another,
A strategy yet to fail,
But brain tells body it is over,
As the snow rises,
And memories abound of those who have been loved.

Now, obscurity abounds in the deepest night,
Above the tree line
A sea of brilliant white,
Shouts, itself
Into the dark of night,
“You are a fool,
Who has risen toward the mountain top!”

Lungs and legs are burning,
No provisions in the survival bag,
Knowing that fate has come
To claim a man;
Prayers to the god of night.

Oddly warm, as he falls to earth,
On this freshly fallen blanket of snow,
He makes his peace with his Maker,
As into the ice,
His tired body is laid low.

Sins and sorrow in a thick stew of life,
With all of the good that he has done,
And as his breathing becomes shallow,
He cannot feel his limbs,
As he weighs the pot which his life has been.

The darkness around him now comes from within,
As his world yields to a brilliant light;
But who are these who have come to meet him,
Proud smiles from the wizards of his life?

But all is warm now,
Whether it be terrestrial
Or celestial
Is unknown,
But life can often hinge
On the choices that we make,
And what is our reward in the end.