A morning 
as cold
as hell is hot;
I’m ready to go 
North from here.

The old folks used to say
a dying soul went south;
what does that mean when
I’m already South?
Heading into life?

I doubt it’s colder there
than it is here but
the only way to truly know
is to go and learn. So North
I go from what is supposed to be

the end of the journey,
the last stop on the way. It proves
you shouldn’t believe everything 
you’ve been told. It proves
nothing until I get there.