Flight 7

the first time
in the first place
where I would need
a friend, we walked
and it must have been
minus thirty
but we did not feel
it because we
were young

then light began
to fade, and it was so
beautiful, so crystalline
and blue, sparkling
and crackling that
this was now home

we walked as the cold
seeped into unprepared
wants, towards knowledge
that we were too young
for foes that were eight
feet tall and the fighter
reaches low, scared that
as the bones
rattle, he knows the fight
is over, and they cheer
because there was no
friend, and nothing ever
to lose, or to win