Into the Cold
The world is getting warmer,
but we are growing old,
from our fiery beginning,
execrably into the cold.
From the core of starry explosions,
our atomic essence ventured whole,
through eons of cold, cold space,
this essence drifted without a goal.
Only to enter the glow once more,
from gravity's mighty pull,
coalescing into the stuff of life,
the fiery birth of a planet's soul.
Into temperate zone of existence,
from which life can evolve,
each creature with its tolerance,
extremes it must resolve.
We are the survivors,
of those who faced the cold,
with warm blooded internal organs,
that made us, oh so, bold.
The only creatures wearing clothing,
we ventured far and wide.
Some living in the tropics, naked,
some living in the arctics, with hide.
But as the days grow shorter,
and time seems to speed up,
the years go by much faster,
and the cold creeps into our cup.
Warm memories of our past,
fill our daily thoughts,
we can't remember yesterday,
was it cold, or was it hot?
Our eyes grow dim of vision,
and our ears no longer hear,
the heat of passion dwindles,
and the chill begins to appear.
The rosy cheeks of childhood,
have become pallid, red and raw.
The winter's chill surrounds us,
as we wait for the spring thaw.
With each year it becomes harder,
to stay warm through the night.
We bundle up by the fire,
and talk about our plight.
But when all is said and done,
and our internal fire goes out,
we once more go into the cold,
for that, there is no doubt.
Image courtesy ecolocalizer.wpengine.com
It seems like every year, when
winter comes, it's harder for
me to keep warm. Eventually, I
won't be able to keep warm at all.
eMail Me
More Poems
My Place
Copyright 2015 © Ronald W. Hull
1/1/15
It'sin the Water and Other Stories
American Mole: The Vespers
Verge of Apoclypse Tales