Snow

Swirls of eternity, an endless spiral of the natural cycle, a marvel to behold. Alright, yeah, this is silly, but what the heck. Let's read it.

I was indeed fortunate to witness such a sight. Snow in hundreds of different shapes, weaving their way by and past each tiny crystal, endless in its efforts to show a majesty unbeholded by humanity; as a crumbling pyramid it came, dissolving into fine white ash, soon rising again into the sky as a whirling spiral, a miniature tornado to pierce the skies; accompanied by a howling wind it ascended into the heavens, only to be replaced by yet another form.

There I walked(for it was cold), watching in awe at Snow's marvelous swirling. Swinging in the spiral, they ascended and descended high and low for all to see: yet I could see no others watching. Men and women clad in warm jackets and fine scarved zoomed past me or walked away from me, none catching the fascinating wonder that was Snow; fine and true, it captured my attention and imbued strength into my heart, warming and yet not warming my core. 'Swing in the spiral...'

'Swing in the spiral...', the words came to me, lyrics that fit my atmosphere in an amazing manner. I had not been searching for them, yet they arrived as though by impulse. I knew the lyrics, appreciated them, accepted them. It was Lateralus by Tool, a progressive metal band from the United States. Their music had once touched me, and now the sensation came back to me in a flashback. My own image: a restless fellow lying on his bed, music unheard pouring out of his earbuds. Not a very impressive fellow, all in all, and not one to tell jokes. Yet from the sewers of time I returned to the present, and found myself detesting memories of the past. I wanted to change it, change my past forever, to become somebody else.

But Snow, it didn't care. It kept on swirling, forming up into wonderful shapes and dissolving into tiny particles of snow. The shapes were there, present, yet I could not see them anymore. I only felt a deep coldness in me, sending impulses up my spine: hurry up. And Snow kept on dancing, continuing its eternal patterns and shapes, not minding whether it covered a car or a roof. And it would continue to do so, until one some fine spring morning you wake up to see the snow melted, the swirls gone. Only memories would continue to exist, buried deep within your mind, lying in wait for the next winter. Then they would emerge, maybe greet you; or perhaps stay hidden in the dark instead, forgotten by their owner. In time they would wander off, probably to fade away into white nothingness, or maybe to wait for a better day. And yet, not one being would care for their existence.

Author's Note

I was inspired by today's snow outside. The language is meant to be extremely poetic. Ironic and easily assimilated with the overly descriptive language found in some poems.