Bippity bop hip hop,
temperature drop,
snowballs on the the move,
Elsa’s in her groove,
and now for the real expedition.
Do you have some thyme,
or at least a rhyme
of a faint memory in disguise
or a warm spirit being victimised?
Is it the whitewash you wanted for the house you’ll end up mortgaging?
Is it the circle of life you’ll regret choosing?
Is it the escape you wanted from the struggle of uneasy living?

Let me tell you what it is;
gathered around a fire
in the iciest of places
at the highest of mountain ranges,
there were a million traces
of the greatest of the eternal sages
who prophesied a time
that would make even the bravest of men have their blood clot as they face the fall
of everything humane, tender to the touch and crisp to the taste.
‘There would came a need for sustaining others as you finally shed your mortal coil.’

So they came up with a rule of thumb when it comes to dying during the days without the sun.
And as a supreme act of sacrifice, don’t forget to
always preheat yourself before your last breath.
Edit: always deep fry the meat to delay the icing.
Re-edit: always melt the head
to get rid of the brain freeze.

As times passed by, the conditions varied, and selfless acts of this sort came to be regarded as crime.
But you don’t just stand by
as this force of nature covers this tiny rock
with layers of frost,
serving as a halt to passion and a catalyst for compression
for all the care that you flaunt
with flair, while you forsake
need for want.

Several centuries and a few myths later,
you call this period
the days before Christmas,
the days after the fall,
the days for all the gifts,
the days for all the holidays,
the days for all the dying snowmen and long dead pine trees,
all for the one and beloved Clause.

Still, there are those in present day
who insist to go to this amusement park where the main attraction
is not the thrill seeker that pumps your warm blood into colder hearts,
but the tunnel of love spiked with icicles that hurt
not because of the arteries that tear,
but the scream with your name
that dies in the other’s throat.

You would think the word ‘cold’ is being exaggerated.
yet what’s right is always underrated.
Remember the Ice Age;
a cycle of freezing and defrosting of each body part until there’s nothing left to thaw out,
and blankets of snow that spread so far,
it’s the mirror image of a clouded expanse under an endless ocean.
In a world where the things you call deadly flirt with everything known as beauty,
represent the best of both
and be the frostbite to your beloved skin.

Written by Sanjay Kumar

Featured image by Deepak Karunakaran 

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