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Snowflakes
float in all directions like my thoughts. They began their journey from the
same place, and were still pretty much together even in the mid way not
long ago. It's sad that they have drifted apart: most join the multitude falling
onto the ground; some fall and melt into the river; some fall on pine
branches becoming decoration of the pines; some are shoveled by bitter
winds into the shadow behind a cross. One stands alone now: it flies over a
cold Northern landscape, constantly rejected by the rocks, finds nowhere to
stop. It struggles not to fall and manages to rise and freezes itself on a
mountain top - at least it can preserve itself this way.
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