poetomachia

i don’t care if it is hot
i don’t care if it is cold
i don’t want the monster
to eat my soul
i don’t want to give up
in the face of anything
but hold to that which abides
and remains never a thing

every moment held and then given
are these the raindrops uncounted
or the blooms unnoticed
blood shed for noone in particular
and forgotten in a moment spectacular