Shattered glass beneath fallen snow
Drifting twelve feet high,
This, a grave for All Things To Know
That have, by chance, wandered by.
Every moment’s lust turns to dust,
Each gram of pain leaves a stain,
Look about for Desire With Doubt,
Look again, Within, Without.

“What of snows of yesteryear?”
Inquires the wisest of all men,
Deep inside his soul, The Answer
Hiding the Question Of What Has Been.
One thought scrapes another,
Scrapes another to the core,
Offering friendship to become
Things That Were Before.

One Thought is in error,
Did not take time to analyze,
Now this Thought huddles under
Things Once Great, Now Not Wise.
Relation of Desire With Doubt,
What is not the breath of living?
Thought In Error, Thought Pure
Cross the River Of Giving.

Passage: Enigmatic City,
Cargo: Crystalline gifts once chaste,
Broken, still pure in heart.
Carriage: Box Marked Beautiful Waste.
One Thought chides another,
Chides another, quickly begs to leave,
Colliding, destined to bequeath
Void Of Thought Ill-Received.

One Thought is Water’s Cool Design,
Another mesmerized by Flow,
Inquisition by Volition
Choosing gain of All Things To Know.
Relation of Desire With Doubt,
What feels the breath of living?
Thought Of Conquest, Thought Of Grace
Cross the River Of Giving.

Snow may lie on that Distant Shore,
Covering Things That Were Before,
To Become Great, To Become Wise,
All Thoughts must cross the Bridge Of Lies.