Beautiful Cold

On this quiet landscape, the sun does rise;
Shining white as far as the eye can see.
A few clouds cling to the azure blue skies
As the wind sings her name, rustling the trees,
Blowing white wisps of snow from where it lies.
The city in the hills, the quiet sea;
All of this beauty that I see is cold,
Which she has always been since days of old.

In this Northern land, perfectly serene,
Chaos fled long ago losing to peace.
The water, the air – so crisp and so clean;
This calmness, this bliss – may it never cease.
Residents, though few, are nice – never mean.
For cabin and life, I signed a new lease.
The cold, she makes me feel the warmth of life;
A place of beauty, wonder – but no strife.


About C. Feallsanach

I am philosopher at heart. I am bursting with ideas and inquisitions. Reality exists in the blurred expanse betwixt the lines of black and white for me. I am far from traditional. Though, I fall far from the vocation of sage, I thirst for all edifying wisdom. My life's mission is to aid, support, and (when possible) facilitate the advancement, evolution, and development of humankind and civilization. I always welcome stimulating dialogue.
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