Spirit

 

Get used to the cold,

The old man said.

Get used to the cold,

You're a long time dead.

 

For life is nothing but a dream.

Truth is removed from our kind;

Reality is never what it seems,

Shades of grey in the unborn mind.

 

Ethereal travellers of shapeless form,

Bound to earth on silver line.

Long ages past since they were born,

Whose wanderings surpass all time.

 

No heaven or hell, no hearth or home,

To dwell in silence, since death came.

Get used to the cold, so you can roam,

And another existence you may gain.

 

I'm used to the cold,

My spirit said.

I'm used to the cold,

I've been a long time dead.

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