A strange day,
to be a life.
Snow keeps fallin’,
Sun still on the rise.

A dream blanket,
coating existence,
the beauty in the air,
is nearly palpable.

Everything struggles on,
every piece,
of this thing,
struggles on.

Above this grey,
the big grey,
the sun is shinning,
a beautiful day.

Under the sill,
of a metaphoric window,
i place my pillow,
my head will lay.

Could ask for no more,
could ask for no less,
how great to be alive,
and yet to experience death.