Two wide iron crescents
Seven-hundred ton behemoth of cold steel
Stretched out thin, as if tip-toeing
Pale against the power of it’s captive
The whirring starts and blades are spinning
Blue sparks, turned crackles, turned surges, then bang!
Now quiet, in the center…strong…flowing… pulsating
Swirling in chorus, the electric heartbeat
A sprint for the center, stopping just barely
The realization separated from the farce
Soft sparks sting his sorry stare
For only fools still dream, for only fools still dare.
The eternal darkness, just beyond reach
Just a step away, but he can go no more.
Even an inflated ego, is not enough
To carry all the weight from those boots
So leave those boots, and go back home
You are NOT the person to brave this cold.