To be cold is to be alive;
to be alive is to hunt for heat.
Our fire may be a fickle friend,
but here it is warm,
so here I am for now;
screaming at silent starts,
as I start to thaw.

Writhing within my eyes
is a flame's reflection.
Now fierce is my stare,
as I gaze down the abyss
of what is yet to be.

So, for now
I do not fear the cold;
it's chill excites my eager bones,

As I savour a new fires embrace.