Cold Mountain

Cold Mountain

Standing here, cool as ice
Burning, churning up inside
Playing loose, we turn the vice
We tighten for a windy ride

The inner circle beckons strong
We fear we've been set too square
Pegged in holes, we reckon wrong
Well done?... Left medium to rare?

Left of reservations, made
We wait for stars to bleed on through
To guide us to our stations, staid,
to platforms that support our view

Rails worn, so warped and bent
Rose, sepia, tint from the past
Twisted, moulded, shaped and spent
With purchases long made that last

As steel wheels spin and brake
Sparks grind sprightly off the rails
Pistons shifting in their wake
Smoke screens shroud our shame, our fails

As steam, it trails, soars and swoops
Through errant nights and restless days
Living in recursive loops
Inherent in such tones of grey

'tween black and white, the shades live on
Through rainbow's truths, so dull, they lie
Cold mountains that we live upon,
have icy frosts that form up high

To play it cool, we pay a price
A levy to the frozen earth
Left trembling beneath the ice
We tighten... burn... for all we're worth