Many Long Fingers Bent in Pain

My moving form
Makes ugly knots in the wind
Many long fingers bent in pain
The meadow, slick and sewn with frost
Ruined as my footsteps crush webs
Into the marble
I curse myself and the warm steam curls
The moon’s gaze is broken as i pass
And my shadow starves the moss of light
A sharp branch scrapes my cheek
Pierced and stunned i frailly ask
Was debt repaid?
Slowly i am spurned
The branch had snapped
In the clearing light is low
And lower near the sulking brush
I lay down my things
I would bleed into the earth
If it would not break the silence
I would enter the ground if it would not make it warm