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Can you figure the title out before the end of the poem?


After the time that is colder than cold

comes the time of not as cold as cold

with light lensing in a thousand sparkles

through a thousand cracks.

Then comes the giant yellow.

 Each time it passes, the warmth of it reaches for me,

never quite embracing me.

Which shall come first, my freedom or my death?

 It looms closer, bigger.

I feel pieces ripped from my surface.

Will there be enough of me left if I break this bond?

 Or will I boil away to naught?

Ah!  The big yellow passes and the cold returns.

The black of the deep begins to lull me asleep.

As the light fades, the sparkles go out,

 no longer reflecting on the bright blue-green world.

No more chances

to walk upon its shores, to climb its peaks.

nor see another, to hold close and touch a face.

 Yet the cold beckons me asleep.

Once more oblivion eclipses wakefulness

and I endure,


 Next time.

  March, 2004, Fred (Woody) Hendrick

Jules Verne wrote "Off on a Comet", also called "Hector Servadac"

Damn, that was fun writing!

Let me know what you think and don't worry, I have a thick hide.  Woody