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.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 1:02 AM UTC
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.
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