DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, 16-X-'23 : 6.52 : if prevailness is a word>

I like the cold
It reminds me of myself
Of the real
The sun is a delusion
To our goodness
Its shines in sake
Yet
Then
There comes a time
Where I've realized its coldness
The cold
Diminishes from the idleness of life
Life itself
It discloses its true value
Its diligent matter of cyclic deviation
Its formation of natural consequence
By default of reality
Its season of fault
To the guilt of less effort
Or so you think
The Mother is not there to just be there
Nor does it splash its heavy loading
Some container of water in excess
It's a thing of conscience thought
A concern in its being
A prevailness in its giving
Upon a hope
An aspiration
Of it not going in vain
I understand the diligence
Yet
I don't understand
I can't comprehend the likeness of the sun
Nor its goodness
Does it have to be the one
Who does the giving?
......................................

                 ­                                                                 ­           ------ravenfeels