Discipline is Unfeeling

Like a cold, emotionless wheel
The wind turbines flow
Cutting the air into pieces
A sawblade of metal

The harshest whip is the wind
40 degrees below
The growth of the ground rescinds
As the frigid sky bellows

Only the strongest survive
In the harshest of conditions
All your needs I will deprive
Until you finally listen

Like a whisper in the night
So soft, mysterious, and sweet
To only your voice
Is my solemn retreat

Close to death, I'd rather
Choose strategy over your pretend feast
For only once I defeat you, nature
You magnificent beast.