Cold

Standing in the cold,
I watched snow fall last night,
white specks drifting down
from a great black height
and stared at one snowflake
twirl-tumbling down,
inevitably, its uniqueness
arrayed as a crown
lost in the distance, the dark,
obscure in its detail,
its fractals of personality,
its soul, as it fell
to the wet, glistening ground,
on the hard concrete,
and it melted upon impact,
next to my unmoved feet;
and I wondered if Someone
in that black-and-white starkness
looked on as we all fell,
from darkness to darkness,
and, bundled up warmly,
cocooned indifferently to all,
it did not deign to catch us
as it watched us fall.

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