The Last Hearth
a poem
The last hearth sits
In the sea of eternal frost
Amongst the once proud pines
Ever lit
It wards against the darkness
Yet year by year
The space
Between hearth and copse
Expands
Imperceptible
Like a trunk
Inching skyward in spring
As the pines fall to fuel the flame
And year by year
We huddle closer
As the winds tear through the divide
Every winter
More huddle around
Seeking warmth
Beside the flame demanding more fuel
Lest all freeze
Another year
The copse recedes
The winds tear at ever exposed flesh
And those intrepid few
Venturing forth
Never return
There’s never time
To replant
Those trees fell
By our own hand
Does such sum of sin
Ever condemn us
To eternal flagellation
Beside the final flame?
About the Creator
Matthew J. Fromm
Full-time nerd, history enthusiast, and proprietor of arcane knowledge.
Here there be dragons, knights, castles, and quests (plus the occasional dose of absurdity).
I can be reached at [email protected]
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