It is not the bones

It is not the bones

They are of little use

Without sinew and flesh

The blood the guts

The will

The way

The cold does not gnaw

At joints

It numbs the soul

Everything stiffens

Even thinking is affected

A process slowed

Down so much

A thought can be caught

In mid flight

Before it is fully realised

What is considered

Inappropriate

When body temperature

Is falling

Are questions essential

Answers necessary

How low can it go

Before the signals

Are frozen

The system fails

The alarm bell

Sounds in silence

The ringing in the ears

An echo of a distant

Summer

Will it come around again

Or has the time come

To answer the call

Of the great

Collective

The spiritual ocean

Of unconscious energy

That may be left behind

When all else fails

And simply

Drift away.