Ice Aged
By lenchenelf
- 1416 reads
Child, child what is your care,
raised from the cradle in a cavern of Bears?
Yet, you sleep, as Bears will
when snow is a blanket, birdsong stilled
in winter's cold shoulder.
Girl, girl, what is your care,
chaste at your girdle within warm lair?
Yet, you sleep, as fair will
when youth is a blanket, dreams unfullfilled
in winter's cold shoulder.
Woman, woman, what is your care,
child at your breast, and lover so rare?
Yet, you weep and whisper a prayer
when he is a blanket, all is his will
in winter's cold shoulder.
She roared a melt:
All these things were chosen for me,
shadows on walls, no sight of the real,
bound to the season, bound not to feel
in winter's cold shoulder.
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Comments
Fine. Just fine. What do we
Fine. Just fine. What do we know of the world who only watch the shadows cast on the wall? I've always thought of Plato's cave as a metaphor for the Cool Medium, since his shadows no more reflect reality than TV.
Loved the internal rhymes.
Ewan
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