Sapiens

In the cold
I am a weapon next to you
This winter is the best
I am the fire
For your hands that fondle
As you say the words
You could not mention

Face the dead gods in autumn
They won’t see us in June

It’s okay for the Java man
He is devolved
By this higher status

Face the dead gods in autumn
They won’t see us in June

In the cold
I am the weapon next to you
Our winters leave the rest
We are the fires
Though our hands they tremble
As we utter words
That we dared not mention

© 2006, Mosquitobyte