I dreamed of fire, then of ice.
I dreamed the dull blade hack and slice.
I saw a Mother’s face, tears overspilling.
Pleading for heart’s peace, never stilling.
I saw a Father’s disapproval, seemed uncaring.
I know he feels much more, he’s just not sharing.
Heads and hearts are full of strife,
This one’s suffering is not by knife.
Sons' and daughters' lives in full flow,
The dead passed on and rest below.
Old age and pain abated by the joy
Of grandkids at play, new girls and boys.
Suffering is real, understanding is relative,
Thought and memory are the only derivative.
No end in sight, but this life’s not long,
Neither is it only for the strong.
So if you’re feeling weak and tired,
Sit by me, I’ve lit the fire.