Instead (Italic lines from Marry Oliver’s Song for Autumn):
Instead of the nothingness of air and the endless freshets of wind what will you fill your empty hours with but the soft fluttering of a snowflake on your lashes, or the echo of your blue words against the glassy stare of the dead lake?
Or maybe you might just hide inside and forge happiness from the warmth of your hands, while gazing upon the biting cold you ran from.
Don’t you hear the goldenrod whispering goodbye, but don’t you cry for him, though you’ll probably never see him again.
Why are you, why are we, stuck in this cycle and do you find comfort in believing that no matter how you fight back, winter will come?
Or is this why you hate such helplessness?
Go, feel the crunching, the shattering, of ice beneath your feet and surrender yourself to being trapped to being stuck to being lost but to experiencing everything on this frozen snowy day.
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