What my ice hides

My spirit is cold, touch it - feels like ice,

But under the sun it shimmers to mesmerize.

It’s tough and hard, coloured like winter in pastels,

But underneath these layers I have secret spells.

It is never bright, just balanced semitones,

A path with little crystals, rocks and stones.

It’s silent, there is no cheers or violence,

But there is no peace like harmony of silence.

It’s blue and white - that’s what you all can see,

A tiny personal minimalist scene.

What no one knows is that ice is thick,

And spirit living in the depths is never weak.

It’s made of fire and sunflower glare,

She governs from the darkness , hidden from the stare.

So no one knows she’s there...

It is my hidden self, and, I would say - my truth.

Because she is the one to tell the rules.

While everyone describes me as sapphire blue,

I know, flames of red is right description too.

So don’t be shoked while walking on my ice.

It cracks and burns, let fire rise.