Saturday, July 16, 2011

The Story

One was cold as ice
when you touched him you froze
but the sun is brightest
in the coldest places.
So there was light.

One was warm as the sun
when you touched him
you felt the summer earth
between your toes
and the sun coming through green trees
warm and comforting.

A heart is a demon
meant to capture your soul
when touch becomes lingering
and sweat becomes ecstasy
when death comes
you want
the cool
spring frozen waterfall
of an arctic touch.

The warm man was the wind
and as you ascend the mountain
the mountain never cares.
What happens when the mountain doesn't care
you forgot your gear
and the snow keeps falling
your spit freezes in your mouth
the snot in your noise ice sheets down your beard.
THe mountain stands
in quiet solitude
and dares you to conquer it
with its silence, stillness, and its majestic height.
I can understand

But the sweet coldness
waits for you to warm it
there are no mountains to climb
just the tundra of white snow
waiting for a snow shoe
a bare foot
to forget
the cold kills.

Sorry black wings spread
and the ice and the fire
bow to the keeper
of fire and water.

But I'm sorry,.
I just don't care anymore.

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