A blanket of snow has fallen.
It sparkles in the moonlight.
The whites slowly become red.
The blue turns to green.
From somewhere deep inside
A river flows out through the deepest dark.
Is the river frozen?
The river flows and flows
Where does it begin?
Where does it fine replenishment?
It sparkles in the moonlight.
A blanket of snow has fallen.
Somehow the river has become dry.
Still blue. A stream now.
Is it pure? Is it lovely?
Pouring. Always pouring.
Beauty seems unattainable.
What is love?
This also seems never to be fully grasped.
Still flowing. Slowly.
A blanket of snow has fallen.
It sparkles in the moonlight.
Is that beauty?
The stream glistens as it flows.
Is this love?
The water turns to wine.
So full. Now white.
Purity is found. Lovely.
There is no end.
The river flows. Always filling.
It sparkles in the moonlight.
A blanket of snow has fallen.
Forever being filled.
The whites slowly close.
Green has vanished.
The river flows from out of the deep.
Never ending.
The sparkles fill the water.
Love is present though unattained.
The whites search. Seek.
A blanket of snow has fallen.
It sparkles in the moonlight.
