The cold, the heat, <br />but never the warm. <br />Comfort is a sanctuary, <br />a place of sacredness, <br />a place of structure and form. <br /> <br />But of sanctuaries, <br />You know nothing of. <br />Of sacredness <br />your knowledge is surely poor. <br />For you own no more than a shack, <br />with no window, <br />with no door. <br /> <br />The cold, <br />or the heat, <br />right in they do creep. <br />and comfort, <br />in all it's cowardness, <br />rushes away without a peep. <br /> <br />Without comfort, <br />misery finds home, <br />and settles in for the stay, <br />makes itself well known. <br /> <br />No matter the days, <br />you live in this pain, <br />you don't get used to it, <br />just ticked at the stay. <br /> <br />But, you must let the misery go. <br />Let it go and realize, <br />that with it, <br />your march to comfort will only slow. <br /> <br />Fight on, fight on, <br />for one day you will win, <br />and you will feel comfort, <br />once agian.<br /><br />kimber harrison<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/road-to-comfort/
