Hot inside hot
inside
cold inside cold
The storm begging siren
two fronts stand opposed
But no storm is coming
and still the roil moans
A pot brought to steaming
eyes blearing; down turned
The world that was burning
stops
stood standing there
Words
adrift on a whirling wind
Cold inside hot
beside
hot inside cold
Released to bring balance
and flowing so free
While cold that surrounds
drains lifeblood from thee
Soon brought to a halt
at no whim of your own
The world ever silent
waits
stood standing there
You sigh to yourself and take a bag from your pocket. There isn’t any helping it, you’re doing what has do be done. You slip the bag over your hand like a glove and crouch down. You're thinking:
Oh what joy
Oh what joy
To be out at a time like this
Oh what joy
Oh what joy
Nothing. This.
The bag is safely tied and the stench passes by your nose. You avoid taking a breath, less chance to smell it, you hope. In the moment, a thought lingers: It was so warm. Why was that so strange to you? You look at the bag and start to walk to a bin to throw it away.
now taking flight
Warmth
clings to any hold
But how meager's the mem’ry
that weathers a storm?
How gentle's the breeze
the follows with dawn?
You stand at the doorstep
once banished; returned
An echo of thundering
words
now taking flight
Start
to rain upon the night
Hot inside hot
inside
hot inside cold
To mend where the earth ails
to seal the cracks well
The torrent soon buries
all lingering tells
But leaves on the cliff face
in a carving of not
Cold inside hot
beside
hot inside hot