Polarities

Winds, caked ice
onto my face;
lost in concepts of glory:
an ultimate race.
Struggling, I plodded,
through arctic snow,
possessed by a dream
that terrible to know;
treading, treading,
alien land,
where no man, by right
should have strength to stand;
but vision was mine,
of wonderous crusade,
'til a snow cave
became my palisade;
I looked down,
to find quest done;
a heap of golden skulls
had I there won, and
I played there,
among scintillant bone -

having come not to take,
but to add my own.