The Cold Within

Six humans trapped by happenstance … in black and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood, or so the story’s told.
The dying fire was in need of wood, but the first man held his back,
For among the others huddled round the fire, he saw one man’s face was black.

The next man looking cross the way, saw one not of his church,
And could not bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch.
The third man sat in tattered clothes; he gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his stick be put to use to warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought of the wealth he held in store,
And how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor.
The black man’s face bespoke revenge as the fire died out of sight.
For all he saw in his stick of wood was a chance to spite the white.

The last man of this forlorn group did nothing but for gain,
Giving only to those who gave to him was how he played the game.
The sticks held tight in death’s still grasp were proof of human sin,
They did not die from the cold without. They died from the cold within.

My religion teacher, Elder Hammond (of the 70), recited this one day and I had to have it!! Isn't it awesome?! This is from a high school student that my teacher once knew. Very insightful. This would be an excellent poem to have if you are every doing a talk/lesson on pride. I think that this is my new favorite! :)