Friday, February 14, 2014


Resting regal at the top of the totems
With her crown of gold and wintery robes
Of silvery armor as hard as ice
That keeps the rest of the world at distance

Armor that shimmers brilliance under the western sun
Locking in the frigid cold of the north
As the heat of the south surrounds her walls
Knocking harder with each passing year

Occasionally she'll hold conference
With the chiefs of the east
Signing treaties of faith and abundance
Which she is praised without end for

As she is the ice queen of the world
In all her majesty and mysticism
Conjuring rough hewn visions of freedom for some
And spells of death for the unworthy

The naysayers who broke their treaties
Who barged in riding fast with guns blazing
Showing their true selves in the low rising light
Only to be shown no mercy at their ignorance

For death comes quickly in the cold
For the unprepared who enter the kingdom
Seeking treasure buried under her waters
Not knowing her wrath doled out upon their souls

But with each passing break up
A few more linger in the valleys 
Settling in for their durations of hardships
Proving worthy of their promises

With this she rewards them with her riches
And shares her endlessly enduring beauty
Which grows within them more and more
And surrounds them in luxurious furs

Until they are warm and content
And thankful for all she provides
They become her followers of the north
And realize why she sits atop the totems

No comments:

Post a Comment