I am the creator who cannot find
The soul in which I burn
A witch of fire, frozen in ice
Freedom is a flight I yearn
Cold and numb, asleep
Yet my eyes are open wide
A cast of iron prison through which
My inner light resides
I yearn to be awakened.
My fire to melt this icy brocade
I yearn for reckless oblivion
My facade has been self-made
A river made of loneliness
My soul has been branded numb
A leave from absolute sadness
I seek the blue-eyed one
A.J. McKinley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fire-ice/
