The Cold Within Us

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Just hours ago our supervisor read this poem to us... Six humans trapped by happenstance In Dark and Bitter cold Each possessed a stick of wood Or so the story's told Their dying fire in need of logs, But the first one held hers back, For, of the faces around the fire She noticed one was black The next one looked cross the way Saw one not of his church, And could not 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 though Of Wealth he has in store And keeping all he had earned From the lazy shifless poor The blackman's face bespoke revenge As the fire passed from his sigh, For he saw in his stick of wood A chance to spite the white And the last man on this forlorn group Did nought except for gain Giving just to those who gave Was how he played the game Their sticks held tight in death stilled hands Was proof enough of sin; They did not die from cold without-- They died from cold within ---James Patrick Kenney--- Food for thought guys.... Why do you think human has this kinds of selfishness?