Warm Hands Cold Feet Poem by David Lacey

Cold sweats, deep heat
Warm hands, cold feet.
The temple lay in ruin
All around me lay gathered
The fragments of these last few years,
Always in search of myself
I have lost so many companions upon my way,
So many tales, so many travels.
Will they each be spoke of in future times?
Will they be relived eternally across the dimensions of our realm?
Or will they be left for our souls to ponder in lone existence?
The time alone is one in all the same
Made different only by a name.