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So Cold No Fire



Have I learned it yet,
what I was meant to learn
in the time allotted?
Have I shared it yet,
what I was meant to share?
All around, I've watched
so much disappear, so much
get broken, discarded.
What's left serves mostly
to remind of what's gone.
But new armies are born
and march behind
never having known,
with no need to forget.
If what I brought with me
is all I'll take, polished and shaped,
when I leave and am forbidden
any freight, then what of all the crud
accrued in transit?
I should probably wash
and scrape at myself
to come clean.
I should probably separate
from all I've met,
from all I've gathered.
How many have watched
the world destroyed
sooner than their little light
went out?  Everyone?
The sun is always going down,
calling run!
run to me!

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.