I am inside an icicle, pure
clean and neatly sharp,
a perfect
point.
As seperated from my emotions as I have ever been.
Unmoving, silent,
my muscles tense,
burn
against the frozen water wall.
In my imagination
I'm ready to crack free
like some space age superhero
awakening after the long night
to light the flame of civilisation.
Are there matches in my pocket?
Numb mind, fumbles reason.
Sad dreams, nightmare moments flare, but
Only the light can strike me here,
Sweetly clear.
The brittle shards of cold that will free me,
are within my power to create.
Not yet.
I wait for meaning to rekindle.
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