Ok.. this is one of my favorite poems~ Author Unknown
The Cold Within
Six humans trapped by happenstance in the bleak and bitter cold.. each possessed a stick of wood or so the stories told..
their dying fire in need of logs the first man held his back, for of the faces around the fire he noticed one was black
The next man set in tattered clothes, he gave his coat a hitch.. why should his log be put to use to warm the idle rich
The rich man sat back and thought of the wealth he had in store and how to keep what he had earned from the lazy shiftless poor
The next man sitting cross the way saw one not of his church and couldn't bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch
The black mans face bespoke revenge as the fire passed from his sight for all he saw in his stick of wood was a chance to spite the white
Their logs held tight in deaths still hands is proof of human sin
They didn't die from the cold without.. They died from the cold within
