To see a world swathed in silent white.
The snow came down in a luminous cloud
One little flake landed on my palm.
And melted into water; no fuss, so calm.
This is the way one should accept death....
The calm cessation of drawing the breath
Everything stilled in the billowing cloud
Where the angels' white, is the white of the shroud.
Melting, not into liquidity
But quietly into eternity.