I crave the sun,
yet shield myself from its rays. What is it I fear?
To be scorched
without the water and soil,
to be burned and crumbled, scattered and carried away
in the fierce wind.
But denying its warmth,
my soul will not abide
the cold and rotting cell.
If I must die,
I'd rather be buried by
elements of earth and sky,
than suffocate in a hell
of hiding, cold as stone
beneath the glacial ice
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