Shifting mist.

Nature can’t be said to be a vacuum.

And hot things don’t stay hot

like you would expect them to

nor do cold things stay cold

I watch from the warmth of my couch

as our world plays out to this pattern

hate begets love, begets hate, begets love

and we find ourselves caught in a cycle

the rain chills, the sun burns

and we bear it all like we must

nations rise, people expire

unable to claim copyright on life’s motif.

I study you like the weather

and stay trapped in the mist,

unsure of where to fall.

My entire existence a reaction to yours.

the ice melts, the frost falls

and we dream of growth

the fire flickers, the embers scatters

leaving us all in the space of indecision.

I see it all through my veil

shifting mist, leaning where the wind blows

and what appears gray and lifeless now

could be full of colour and animation now too

Warm food eventually cools

the cold bites at your tea

your hot seat befriends the fresh air

Indifference replaces your passion

But I wait for you

like the cold waits for the heat

or is it the other way round

without the other, how do they know what they are?