Arctic Fire (Poem)

Heat where there is none,
Helping me survive,
As this land cares not,
For my existence.

It will not feed me,
My rations run dry.
The water freezes,
And my lips are dry.

This land is water,
But it is drought.
Rainfall never comes,
Yet the sky is cloud.

Here people are not,
Except for just me,
But I am hardly,
As I am fading.

I thank Arctic Fire,
As it warms my soul,
And provides relief,
From unforgiving.

This land does hate me,
But this fire does not.
No, it loves me so,
And I embrace it.

The flames are orange,
Against the grey world,
It is free and strong,
Burning with great ease.

It fills me till full,
And hugs me till warm,
Like a friend would do,
When times are so rough.

Arctic Fire I love,
Just like the Winter,
As both have caught me,
When I was falling.

The world does hate me,
Just from time to time.
It pushes me down,
Into a dark pit.

And I fall non-stop,
Until I am caught.
But they will catch me,
They are not alone.

To begin there is,
Winter and its cold,
My own human friends,
And Arctic Fire.

Each has their own place,
The Fire's is this land,
As Winter feeds not,
And men exist not. 

But this Fire feeds me,
Unlikely it seems,
As it melts the ground,
And provides water.

And this Fire exists,
For I am alive,
And the world is changed,
But the Fire soon leaves.

I must leave soon too,
As I am ready,
Due to Arctic Fire,
We leave together.

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This poem, just as "Winter's Dreams", was inspired by a tea that I enjoyed while sitting at the Tea Party on York street in Ottawa, Ontario.  I suppose it is about the feelings I felt when first having it, or perhaps even when I have it each time.

-Zero