I am the hunted king
Of the frost and big icicles
And the bogey cold
With its wind boots.
I am the uncrowned
Of the rainworld
Hunted by lightning and thunder
And rivers.
I am the lost child
Of the wind
Who goes through me looking for something else
Who can’t recognize me though I cry.
I am the maker
Of the world
That rolls to crush
And silence my knowledge

(poem by Ted Hughes)