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.