Tantalizingly close, a tingle in the spine,
Something lovely and fearful, desired and unimagined,
Wonderful, snow coloured sentiments flaking from the sky,
Looking higher above, at descendants of an Earth,
Ascended beyond whatever they were worth,
Experiences, flailing moments, lost causes and effects,
Changing seasons emphasized in death,
Ancient voices echoing through the bones, they speak,
Passages of the path, ways of the order, you live it,
You live them, loved and alone, you are their crescendo,
The twinkle of the Morning Star, the cheeks of a young one,
A chuckle of an elf, bound in self, expressed nevertheless,
Of being, traipsing wantonly along the path of a thousand,
Thousand invisible footprints, theirs, yours, ours…
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