Hurtle

Maybe it’s better
rushing down this icy path
at increasing speeds: faster
faster, collecting snow,
at growing alacrity
ever closer to to some blinding terminus
with the glare and the ice pellets
pelting and causing no end
of disturbing dissonance.

Perhaps this fate
is preferred to the alternative
of stationary and still
waiting at a crawl in the cold
for the front to creep through
every inch into entrails
and recognize every part until
there is nothing within
without or wherever
that isn’t ice.

The world is frozen.
The world will end
and you will end with it.
The choice of how is yours
but speed
speed is the better one, surely.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s