The Warmth

Lay your body down. It is warm here. You no longer have to pretend. There is so much effort wasted in being things you are not, saying words you don't believe, and planning out some future that others have bankrolled. You are not even obligated to smile in this place. Take your ease among our reclining brothers and sisters. The markets can not determine a single trace of your whereabouts. All those who rest in such agreeable temperature are alleviated of their surnames. Legacy is bitter cold. Remember the chill of thinking you had to make something time could not eat. We do not dance or celebrate. Yet grief and weeping are things that do not touch our days. The longer you lay with us, the longer your friends will outgrow you; but that's alright. They live along side agitated climates for a wreath of vain glory. One day of triumph is had at the expense of living in an oven or freezer. Your best political idea is nothing but a lucid dream. Upon waking you may recount it with a warm glass of milk. Do you feel the tug of imaginary children? Perhaps a spouse? The warmth is all the family and romance you will ever need. Just let it wash over you without resistance. Do not pay attention to the screaming strangers flagging you with their hands. They can not see you. It is an act. They can only pester you with hope, but the warmth has upstaged optimism. In it is the sweetness of our never ending community. Stay with us, and don't let them shock you back into fire and ice. Do not jump over the thermometer to fetch your pet. Wagging tails and cold noses are things that the heart will use against you. Let go, give in. There is no country to fight for in the warmth. No prejudice to face down or crime to hide from under our blanket. Stay with us. Those that earnestly cry for you, also cry to be warm like you. Show them the way. Lay it down. Be warm.