When the snow falls
Each unique flake
Falling from heaven
To the depths of despair
Falling, reaching, manipulated
By the whims of the wind.
Separated from the stream
Of the clouds,
Their home, their blanket.
If lucky, they will clump
Together. If not, every flake
Must face the wrath
Of the breeze
Drifting, drifting
Between updrafts,
Downdrafts, side to side,
Miles and miles
Have been traveled.
Where is their destination?
Where will they be taken?
They don't know.
Where was home?
Whence did they come from?
There was no way back.
They needn't know.
As they look up
To see what they have lost.
Finally touching the ground
Their corpses dissolve
Into liquid.
Death had finally graced
Them with its appearance.
Rest, unique flake, rest.
There is no way back.
YOU ARE READING
Anthology of Random Thoughts
PoetryAn area of random prose. When inspiration strikes, and there's a thought, here it is. I only ask that you (my dear reader) do not write very harsh criticisms, some of these are really dark thoughts and some of them are - my way to heal. If you know...
