Hypothermia

From the colors of autumn, so bright and true, comes post-mortem, biting cold is coming through. The colors seem to die, my fingers are cold and stale, the air is thin and dry, snow falls as I walk the trail. Branches of glittering snow hang low onto the path, the wind is whispering yet feels like broken glass, I clench my coat shivering as I ramp up the gas, the message I am delivering must come to pass. As I fight through the snow I beginning to fret, I begin to bow forward and begin to sweat, I'm too hot but continue onward all of me feels wet, my mind has been altered but I won't give up yet. I can't take this heat coming from inside, on a stone a take a seat and begin to decide, the heat has me beat the cold has me defied, bare feet and with my clothes beside. I removed all my attire and I'm feeling groggy, the winter and cold conspire and my vision is foggy, I lay down and fold into fetal position thinking back on how I was cocky, then my eyes rolled and i keep thinking I'm sorry. The life that once lived now has been lost, the gift that life gave us all is now frozen in frost, but the message out-lived me and isn't lost, what dies is a gift and everything has a cost.