Shifting mist.
Nature can’t be said to be a vacuum.
And hot things don’t stay hot
like you would expect them to
nor do cold things stay cold
I watch from the warmth of my couch
as our world plays out to this pattern
hate begets love, begets hate, begets love
and we find ourselves caught in a cycle
the rain chills, the sun burns
and we bear it all like we must
nations rise, people expire
unable to claim copyright on life’s motif.
I study you like the weather
and stay trapped in the mist,
unsure of where to fall.
My entire existence a reaction to yours.
the ice melts, the frost falls
and we dream of growth
the fire flickers, the embers scatters
leaving us all in the space of indecision.
I see it all through my veil
shifting mist, leaning where the wind blows
and what appears gray and lifeless now
could be full of colour and animation now too
Warm food eventually cools
the cold bites at your tea
your hot seat befriends the fresh air
Indifference replaces your passion
But I wait for you
like the cold waits for the heat
or is it the other way round
without the other, how do they know what they are?