A Glaze of Ice

 

                                                        
                                                            A Glaze of Ice



A cold, invigorating glaze of ice,
Spreads across a sinuous, meandering crevice,
Over barren lands it never dies,
Turning to ice floes of bleak, fallacious bliss.

Ornamenting the world with glacial preeminence,
Vigilantly guarding it from overwhelming incandescence,
In the north and south, it shields from bursts of sun-
 In glacial peaks, all heat within us it overruns.

To the heavens the plowers pray, " Oh, Gods of rain",
"A year-round drought forebodes us from growing
crops for the welfare of all, that hardly restrain,
to fall to the aridity, which is truly deteriorating." 

Hearing the pleading invocation by  the cultivators,
The gods shower upon us the torrent of rainwater.
Little did they know, before they freeze upon the earth's facet,
Would collide with the surface as hoarfrost, swifter than set.

But can the world forbid us from creation?
To try and prevent have we ever prevented?
Can the unwavering ice's mist condition
The gales, just as relentless and averted?

Where the ice seemed to be untamed,
It's innovative contrivance went on to become famed-
The air conditioner, an incredible contribution,
Tones down incalescence at your discretion.

Yet, the glaze frighteningly creeps through our bones,
Horrendously chilling it to the marrow-
Are the icicles destructive, frozen stones?
Or are they assets which make heat paths narrow?..


- Sahana  Raghuraman