You can tell the character of a person by how that person acts once that person has experienced defeat. My days are cold, the kind of days that are so cold my gray shadow shivers as it matches me stride for stride across snowy grounds. All the years I remember and every year yet to come, are supposed to be filled with these cold days. Those years I remember as yesterday are snow beneath my feet, crunched beneath my heavy boots, and raked by my still shivering shadow.
The world breathed in my essence and exhaled my shame. They said I was no good and had no future. They said I was nothing. They labeled me defeated before I had a chance to win. As consolation, they gave cold days for my participation.
Crunch, I keep walking, alone with my thoughts and wondering at the taste of defeat. Strange, I did not know that defeat tasted like the burning fire of desire. I did not know that defeat tasted like the cool perseverance of a glacier moving across the land. I did not know it tasted sweet like the memories of home. I should not be tasting, but I do.
I learn. I hope. I care. I love. I dare to be. If this is defeat, then beat me down and mock my worth. Challenge my pride. But know you only make me stronger. From ashes to fire, from fire to life I burn. My cold days are my fire.
You can tell the character of a person by how they act once they have experienced defeat. My character stands tall, because heat rises.
