It surrounds you, carves you
into itself without notice,
it is so smooth and tranquil
you are unaware it is happening.
Someone has thrown a mantle
of antiquity over your shoulders
and it feels good, as if it was made
to fit, while still white snow suckles
you away, little bright coal dropped
in a stream, ripples and steam,
all that you seem to be drowned
in the meaningfulness of sleep.
Soar, seek the feeling in fingertips,
fade faster, you fly toward the ineffable,
the inevitable.

An endless chain of crystals binds
you and me to time, creates caverns
of us, remnants of what passed,
breath of the storm in our ear,
strange words when we first heard them,
but now, so familiar, they soothe us,
until we are no longer aware we use them.
Sleeping in snow, we carve ice into a cave
that comforts us as if it is only us, asleep
with safe dreams, as we bind forever
to these frozen chains.