No desire for stone.
Growing cold
and wearing away over time.
Stationary and strong.
or flaky.
Fresh from festive
the winter is itself again.
And I am cold, wearing away.
I view the mountain in transparency.
"I see plans inside of plans."
You should never run on the ice
and I have never been fond of the thought of freezing to death.
When fertility is in the air again
and we see flowers...
then flying will become us.
We will be as fetching as the sunset and as fierce as the storm.
Nothing will stop us, short of death,
and then,
only a little while.