I am the quiet of the falling snow
shifting through the layers of dimension without distortion
while fragments of old reality shatter and suspend judgment
as all possibilities kaleidoscope about in abundance
and in anticipation of all potentiality.

I am the quiet of the falling snow
in the breathlessness of astonished wonder
as chills of beauty so profound
announce the hairs on my arm
now standing straight up
in speechlessness quietly exquisite
as my footsteps are met by the surrendering earth
allowing and permissive of my touch.

I am the quiet of the falling snow
crystallizing in shiny dewdrops on webs
of interlacing networks crisscrossing through the eons
on the backs of design messenger patterns
elaborately displayed in the horizon
yet subtle to the naked and unknowing eye.

I am the quiet of the falling snow
serenely dipping through the holes in time
and melting into chambers
with glistening receptors
enchanted with the notion of deciphering
if only for that instant
the mysteries that are found in the template of illusion.
I am that quiet of the falling snow.