sing again and again and again
Snow, falling gently like white fluffy caramels of beauty.
No.
I would rather describe it as a giant cluster of cold and moist raining ferociously upon the insignificant people below. Ah, but I do respect the winter. I stand in solemn silence calmly watching the world I’ve grown to love and adore die before me, the only thing keeping me alive being the knowledge that it will once again rise, more beautiful than ever. But alas, it is a long wait.
Winter has begun. The trees have suffered for too long and the plug has finally been pulled. They sleep now, the trees, and they are contented in their unconscious coma. However, I am not, for fate has other plans for mankind; other, more grand plans. We must endure both scorching heat as well as icing cold. We must learn, so as to better understand death and the cycles of time.
It seems, I do not understand death, not yet at least, for I cannot love winter as I love summer. I cannot enjoy the deterioration of nature and the slow decay of life. I can only appreciate life, and somehow, that is comforting to know.
I am not yet lost
I am not yet a man
I am not yet illuminated
