Elysium in Ice

In winter's grasp, the earth exhales,

A slumbering world that softly wails.

Beneath the weight of frost's embrace,

A stir awakens—an ethereal grace.

The snowflakes, not mere cold confetti,

Spin tales of warmth, wrapped in a jetty.

Each crystal a memory, tender and bright,

A fleeting whisper of winter’s flight.

In hushed embrace, the voices rise,

Not from lips, but through starry skies.

The moon—a lantern, a watchful beam,

A guardian of hopes, a keeper of dreams.

Through frosted panes, we seek our way,

Not just for warmth, but light of day.

For in the hearth, the fire aglow,

In stillness, secrets begin to grow.

We gather close, not for the feast,

But for the stillness, where hearts find peace—

No longer a void, a chill untamed,

But the pulse of winter, lovingly named.

Each star—a story, ancient, profound,

A witness to the heart's silent sound.

In the stillness, love is born anew,

In its echo, the world rings true.

So let the snow fall, both soft and wild,

A tender touch, by nature's child.

For in the quiet, we uncover,

A peace that binds us, sister, and brother.

In winter’s breath, we rise and fall,

A dance of warmth, a beckoning call.

And though the season must fade away,

Its spirit lingers, our hearts at play.