The snow is crystalline and beautiful
burying everything as it falls,
a fairy palace made for dolls.
Winter outside is mild but cold,
today I might be reborn and
lose these feelings of being forlorn.
Innocent powder cleanses my soul
because I am weary and life
takes its toll. Every snowflake is
different just as every birth is a
miracle. I know I can still be
thrilled and fulfilled by the smallest
things despite the evils I have
known and seen. There is
a never-ending cycle that does
not stop for anything and it does
good to me, shaking loose the
nightmares, intrusive thoughts
and fears, collecting quietly on
my consciousness, layer by layer,
all these passing years. White as
a new bride with tender intent,
the snow has a glamour, a
glitter the sun invents. A
spiritual calling evolves like water
into ice with every renewal of virtue over vice.
Walking in the virtue over vice.
Walking in the snow reflecting, I listen for the
words my heart is selecting.
Calm and centred, I now see
myself as part of the art of
insight made glaring, then
again, there is no rush with the
snow falling, to speed my way
to realising the full extent of
awareness I am capable of,
letting go of fear and hanging on
to love. The snow is crystalline
and beautiful, muffled but gentle,
inconvenient but soft as a kiss,
nature telling a tale that is always
going on, day to night, season
to season, for everyone, for every
reason.
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