Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted Into this nation’s primordial freeze My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise The sun’s altruism will be refuted
Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness The frost will leak through the bedroom window And don the facade of a blanket The door will prove to be bottomless
Possibilities will seem unachievable The brain will itch for what it can not have Buses will limp through congestion And the blizzards may feast on the feeble
You may want to write of your misery But your automation will halt in cataclysm Because someone held a door open For the gust that billows bitterly
Gastric emissions will become tangible As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour The wispy whites, marginalized into ***** And the world remains infallible
I will lack the tools of incision To enact my life’s revisions I will weep for my unguided millions While I saunter into oblivion
After the thaw, I will smile My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles
After the thaw, the arks will converge Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge
In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain Is left susceptible to perennial reverence The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel
In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways Will show the world how exiguous we are That we must not wait for exodus to come Should we fear to waste away Into icebergs