White Out


A sea of white, contrasting a sheer blue sky. 

Water, water everywhere, all of it too cold and dry. 


I trudge as if to nowhere, to where the white meets blue

The tracks I leave behind me offer little clue. 


To where I'm going and where I've been,

My tracks just gradually disappear from view. 


The only relief from all this emptiness,

Is through the long, dark night. 


When the stars in patterns endless,

Fill the blackness with warm bright.


If I've lost my way, I know not for sure,

I just head for the horizon and hope my thoughts are pure,


And white as the driven snow.

Onward I must go. 


Until gray-white clouds gather in the west,

Engulfing the blue like the rest. 


Swirling, whirling, eating up the view. 

I brace myself for the test. 


Hunker down and pull myself in.

The white wall comes and covers all sin. 


The wind howls an awful din. 

I know not what state I’m in. 


I wander about in the swirling mass,

Knowing not how much time has passed. 


I only know that with the night,

The white will turn gray, then devoid of light. 


Black or white, I am blinded by the sight,

And wander the white desert in my fright. 


Lose my way while the snow covers my day. 

Purifies my soul and whites me out.


In the bright morning, I am gone.

Merged to a white landscape before the dawn.


Copyright 2002 © Ronald W. Hull




More Poems

My Place

Read War's End, the Novel