People stand the same,
As leaves of grass after a frost,
The past had chilled them,
While the shining future warms to them.
But even those bathed in the reanimated dew
Still look upon their brothers,
For as the hopeful sun rises,
There are shapes of darkness that drift across the land,
Holding some in the shadows for a little longer.
How dreadfully bitter it must be-
To look upon the future with a warm heart,
And look upon your brethren with a cold shudder.