The warmth lingers but soon is gone
with remnants of the prior good slipping across asphalt
Past stop signs that remain stationary and designated one ways
But the slip goes its own way and moves despite our bridle aims
(How feeble our tried controlling)
As gone, it goes again further
In the empty made past, the cold reigns and creeps to rub those left
Who sought and hold onto what made the prior great
Then to he who looks down and stays
And holds roses in full, thorns breaking as deep as it is embraced
He bleeds with knowing what pain that is this grip
To hurt himself in hope what was the good, persists
But she walked (as they all walked) in the wake of what he does not grasp:
To persist he too must go
To be good is to go
With the warmth that slips and the cold that creeps
Down that road where they've gone ahead
So fit in their endeavor, found warmth for themselves
and with able men who move past signs and walk their own way
fighting cold with a coat of weathered callouses
See as he perceives, naked but stained in thorns
Still standing the ill as all the rest go on across
With the last of that linger with a grip bleeding steady dumb
Relief in seeing the fire of women who lived on
