YOU ARE HERE: / Poetry / Musings on a Snow Flake


Musings on a Snow Flake

how can something so cold, spark within me so much heat?

the pure, white snow
so very beautiful, but so very cold
you can stand in awe of her beauty
but with a single touch, she is destroyed
for surely the delicate snowflake would melt away within the warmth of your hand
indeed, the pure, white snow can be made no more beautiful by the touch of a human hand

for years have I sat at the nighttime window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the snowfall
and when the snow graciously passes by my window, I am entranced, and my entire being
focuses on the beauty of the snow
for once I wanted to feel the touch of the gentle snowflake
to be closer to it, to exist in the same world
so I ventured outside, and for an evening I knew the meaning of joy
but quickly I discovered that as I approached the snow flake, it would quickly disappear
I soon learned that all the warmth I felt for the snow, from the depths of my heart
the snow perceived as a threat, and for that the snow could come no closer to me
melting within the warm sphere of my presence
and for that, I could not touch the snow, and this grieved me so
I retreated back inside, with a solemn sense of solitude
and now, looking at the snow through my window does not warm my heart
because I know that to have a warm heart would destroy the snow
so now I must become as cold as the snow
though this hurts me so