The Cold Within:
Author: James Patrick Kinney

Six humans trapped by happenstance
In dark and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
Or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,
The first woman held hers back
For on the faces around the fire,
She noticed that one was black.

The next man looking cross the way,
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes
He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use,
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store.
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man's face bespoke of revenge
As the fire passed from their sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

The last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's still hands was proof of human sin;
For they didn't die from the cold without…
No; They died from....The Cold Within.

May God Bless you all.
From the Master's Table:
http://www.masters-table.org