| Six People Trapped By Happenstance In Damp And Bitter Cold, Each One Possessed A Stick Of Wood Or So The Stories Told. Their Dying Fire..In Need Of Logs The First Woman Held Hers Back, For On The Faces Around The Fire She Noticed One Was Black. The Next Man..Looking Cross The Way Saw One Not Of His Church, And Couldn't Bring Himself To Give The Fire -- His Stick Of Birch. The Third One Sat 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 Just Sat Back And Thought Of The Wealth He Had In Store, And How To Keep What He Had Earned, From Going To The Poor. The Black Man's Face Only Spoke Revenge, As The Fire Passed From His Site. For All He Saw In His Stick Of Wood, Was A Chance To Spite The White. The Last Man Of This Forlorn Group, Did Not..Except For Gain. Giving Only To The Ones That Gave, Was How He Played The Game. The Logs Held Tight In Death Still Hands, Was Proof Of Human Sin. They Didn't Die From The Cold Outside, They Died From The Cold Within. |
| The Fire |
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| by: UNKNOWN |