Cold And Getting Colder

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.”

George Elliot

Cold and Getting Colder

by T. A. Fry

Why listen to conventions drab advice?
The crowd that quietly eats their porridge
without cream, their modest life should suffice
but cloisters dreams in dusty storage. 

It’s much more interesting to wade
into the fray, to fight and dance away
the night, mine to lose, mine to choose
what and who’s to be obeyed.

Take my hand, together, if we can,
we’ll climb solo or on belay,
hearts directing what to say,
finding where and when to plan.

Shall I kneel before the altar
to pray for sins, lucid or not,
lose or win, the past forgot,
a future, mine to steal or redesign, should I falter.

Why listen to conventions drab advice?
Eyes closed I clearly see brilliant colors
floating ageless above the others
love emanating from a rosy grace.

Gingerly I wade into deeper waters.
It’s cold and getting colder.
There’s no way around it
I’m getting bolder.

Death Is A Deadline

by T. A. Fry

Where were you born?  What have you farrowed
Before the world turned towards misshapen things?
What will you plant, fertilize and harrow,
A farm to be proud,  fit for wise kings?
Sow ancient love in concentric rings,
Hoe blood bound soil, beneath pregnant clouds.
Cultivate laughter, while Gaia’s soul sings,
Black dirt on tan girls, their spirit’s endowed
By a jubilant song, defiantly loud,
All dancing beneath a bright harvest moon,
Wind calling their names from a nearby wood.
Rise to your journey and go there soon!
Bask in the sunshine, drink finest wine.
If death is a deadline, live this lifetime.