Cold it is cold is where it stops
Blood stops life stops breath stops
Will to breathe stops to be stops
And you shut yourself down
And everything out that you normally might
Welcome or admit no longer is
Welcome or admitted but
Stopped is in its wake stopped
Where can parade before me
All the world's passion beauty
And incessant churning of
And i am as oblivious to
As though it were a pile of bricks
And this is death of and cease of
All that defines life and being is
And i am become as dead to and indifferent to
Which is the only definition i know of
What not to be is and closed to
Which is how i can say to you
You are become to me
the enemy of all
That is to me life and meaning is
February 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem