would walk to the place where even a blizzard reaches its limits. The ragged
edge of its sum total. The place it stops and says, No more.
And the sky, suddenly, would be, above you, unabashedly blue.
But here, the flakes still fall in their slow motion, wearing their geometries
like trances. Perhaps no two are exactly alike, but they are also too alike to
be given names, too much the same to be granted lives. They fall in crowds
in the world as well as in the mind.
But you were beautiful, too, and free of illusions, so why—?
Well, I keep forgetting. You never listened to my suggestions. Never asked
for my advice. When I built my luminous prison around you, you simply lay
down at the center of it and died.
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