DEAD COLD

Existence Graced
The primordial slump
Sitting, slouched
Against the prime
Invisible to thoughts
Or, the purpose
Behind the gross

The only existence
Speaks its wants.
Never have that
Been an accord,
In the living
And procreating

From far fledged
In distance deep
Vision calls:
Before the change
You can play with,
THERE it had already
Taken its full wings

Change halts
At the core
Of dead cold!