In the wee hours of austral summer
when endless sunlight is dimmed
by a clouded storm of white
I sit
and watch the harshness of the world
tuck under a crisp cold cover.
The blemishes of consumption
disappear beneath this sheet
as the frost bites at my breath.
There is no promise of warmth on the horizon
And yet
Out of weather-wrought chaos —
beauty maintains order
with elegant ice crystals and perfect snowflakes.
Do not be fooled by this perfection,
this beauty does not come from control
but from the essence of wild winds and untamed freedom.
Despite my knowing,
I fear the boundlessness of my own power —
its disregard of limits and restraint.
Somewhere in the snow
lies a hidden mirror of ice
whose reflection
holds the secrets of my being.
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