Tiny little motes of white.
Falling all around me.
Catching rays and shining bright.
I've nowhere else to be.

Little bursts of cold I feel.
Shivering feels so new.
Down apon the ground I kneel.
Vision's going askew.

Clean and pure is all I see.
Quietness spurs me on.
Frozen blanket over me.
All is still. All is gone.


Penned by my hand on the 6th of Glacian, in the year 800 AF.