Cold

The wind floats far from it's resting place
in search of warmth to rise again.
As waves beat down upon a jagged face,
a spray of salt lays siege to rain.
Empty shells become but voids in sand
claiming all history from the sea.
Whilst starlight flickers in a universal stand.
Fair Morse code in harmony.

Shuffle, child. Here alone you might stand
to pry the sleepless from their chains.
Bound to gold with lead in hand -
the air does feel a little strange.

A young wolf cried but the fox refrained,
a simple hindrance in the land.
Soldiers die to outlive the game
of want for everlasting brands.
Try the fools who never cared to think
of those who fell within their snare.
So tie the noose before your neck shrinks
and repay all debts to those who care.

Kneel, child. Feel the patter of rain
upon a back which you'll never pardon.
Born from tears devoid of pain
from clouds to which you hearken.

Stroll through the dark of courteous flames
to an abode where sisters lie.
Lay with the one who is mild to tame
through the taste of rainwater brine.
Place the bets you were won't to keep
upon the presence of fallen stars.
Behold their glitter through a fall so steep -
Morse code was nearly ours.

Respire, child. Hold this air in your lungs.
Think it not a burden or ease.
In time, your life shall be tightly strung,
only dust will there be to breathe.