Snow

The snow is like the fire
in the final book.
What do we know
about truth and gold?
They’re cold
only when we try
to hold them in our hands.

I am a fire and I’ll light myself
in whatever ways work.
Like a snowflake I’m drifting
only to crash to earth in the end.
But then maybe my heart will melt.
It will condense and expand up to heaven.

I don’t know what alone really means.
Each piece of snow is individual yet it all ends up together.

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