Comfort in the Cold.

The water comes down,
trickles down from hair to skin,
skin to heart.
it embraces you in its bond between elements,
encloses you in a world of warmth.

The water turns off,
and out into the cold cruel world you go.
You dry every ounce of water that touches your skin.
When we're most bare and pure,
here we think.

Think of all the ways we can change.
Forever trying,
Forever feeling that you're not good enough,
That there's something missing,
Feeling empty and vacant.

All the love given to others is absorbed ,
eaten, swallowed, taken,
and maybe, slightly,
appreciated and returned.

Here in the cold,
with nothing attached,
perhaps I could freeze.
Stand here as me,
not taking, not giving.

Here stands the naked truth,
and somehow there's comfort there,
yet there's uneasiness felt.
The mirror's blanket is wiped away,
to show the wondrous glance.

You look and wonder,
who are you?