It’s cold outside,
the frost is creeping in.
Crystal by crystal,
covering the world without a care.
Where has my power gone?
I thought I was dancing with the universe,
thought I was safe…
but a blown engine at midnight
shattered that illusion.
I must preserve my heat.
This is real… not some delusion
and yet… all is as it is and I find some time
at last to write.
From the heart of where I am,
free of preachy insights.
Its cold.
Its dark.
A man is on the way.
Just left with stubborn will!
Screw the cold!
With every dropped degree,
my resolve burns brighter still.
Copyright Faramond Frie © 2016

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