Float, Not Fall Poem by Brian Minniear

Is this not the soul that didn't quite make it out?
These flakes that float - float, not fall - about outside like slivers
Shimmer against the white and the wind

Though those vast panes of heaven
Above us remain, docile and unshattered

And never betray the inherent illusion
Of comfort without that beckons us so gently, to death

What is then, in the wake of love,
Goes floating by like scattered glash
Yea, always borne up again by the wind

Before it may be regathered by the ground.
Such is the burden of realization, that
This is indeed that soul.