Crouching demon
Waiting to bestow
The icy kiss of death?
Or maybe just
A soft tumble in the snow…
The earth seems to tremble,
The air is holding its breath
Anticipation
Trepidation
Suddenly-
Tumbling, rolling
Gaining speed
Do you embrace it?
Sometimes, it's too much.
Smothering, surrounding…
There is no say,
Taken by the urge
Of a snow cloud.
Then, amidst the vast white
Nothingness-
A glimpse of sky!
Hope, fueling ambition
Best the snow devil,
Determined to fall out on top-
Maybe the star,
It seems so far away,
One might succumb
To the engulfing white
The fire dies, limbs turn cold
Transforming into just another
Snowflake…
Other times, there is not enough.
Grasping hands, greedy fingers
Holding no substance
But snow.
It slips, slides, melts
And is gone, leaving none
But the frantic
Reaching, desperate for anything solid…
Blinding snow
So white it must be black
The blindness it creates.
There is no sound but the silence
Oppressing, closing in
No way
To tell the sun from the moon
Nor up or down
There may be socks in the air
And eyelashes on feet
There is no way
To advise one from the other…
But it is no matter,
All that is positive-
There must be an
End.
An end to the fall?
Possibly.
Or maybe
Just an end
Of consciousness…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem