Fire and Ice (Poem)

Between the glimpse of lonely feathers,
Airborne to strike out from its tethers,
Stands the final mountain of courage
Between the hero and his rival.

Stifle the tension between the studious
Boys; Ice and fire collide in a furious
Snap of frozen flame—one is too cold,
But the hero is consumed in the heat.

They reflect, the most colorful of mirrors,
Red and green with passion and tremors
Of wars driven into the bloody past,
For the past does not become a hero.

The hero instead becomes his angry past,
And the rival not far ahead, shifting fast
Into the unmistakable chains of nemeses,
Clawing with his raging, lonely feathers.

Bound as enemies but friends for life,
The fire cannot exist without the ice.
Primarily, the secondary colors swirl
To vibrant beginning as the forces

Utterly collide and blend so together,
Shattered ice through the lonely feathers.
They will make this battle their last,
And finally the courage will find worth.

The mountain moves as the grooves of
Ironclad hatred steams in the air above
Them; red as blood and envious green
Color them happy and dead inside.

But what is good must end, and what is
Bad must always be the hero and his
Victorious scourge, for in losing a
Friend, one must gain an adversary.

The fire, jumping in finality and truth,
Has brought the battle's end in sooth—
And so, his duty is to complete the last
Rites of passage and not be his past.

But even though the vanquished ice
Looks up at his rival all but twice,
He cannot shake the fire's hand,
For it shall come to burn again.

And so, the lonely feathers, stained
Red by blood and green and blamed
For their total failure at the hands of
Fate

The fire stands to revile the end
But the ice, still frozen, is no friend.