So many tears; so much of everything.

Place like people, going on and on and on till soil and soul

Can no longer be told apart.

And the heart cries and prayers of a thousand years

Of hope and hurrahs and heavens and hells

all of them a kingdom as real as Tatar, Taiga and Tundra;

and the glories of the great and the sad smiles of long gone Chrestianin

rise off the road like heat waves on a hot summer day.

so much that is living bound up in layers of cold,

temperature saving from the tampering of time

acting as a foil to breezes from gentler places

As a reborn Samson would deal with Delilah

and the siren-warmth of the South;

while the ice covers forest and field and grave

of the time-honored few

and the forgotten many

Promising that the only hope of thaw

must come from deep within.