Last Snow
Opening my eyes,
Seeing the familiarity,
The milky dawn
Of a previously restful night;
An instinctual feeling
To suspend yourself
In a room faded behind a certainty

The thought of death
Becomes atrocious, unbearable
Same too, perhaps the memory of life,
The realization that in a singular moment
Time will not only transcend prospectively,
But will be hastily carried with no return