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.