chilled.

i am cold.
the night is cold.
the moon,old yet whole,
is my mother who shines
to thaw my freezing tears.
years could march on
and i might still frolick in
my own salt pool for fools.
or i might grow above you,
above history,above everything
that once hurt.
in my tshirt,
i will soar like the man
i once seemed to be.
i will soar free.