Time can be like snow.
Covers things up before we even know.
What happened or where things went.
It hides the deterioration and the flaws,
But then it thaws.
Exposing what we didn't mind being forgotten;
Even preferring it that way.
As if the snow makes it go away.

There is one greater that promises not a covering of snow,
But a restoration to where one wouldn’t even know
That what before we wanted to hide
Is now beautiful
Because of nails in hands and a spear in the side.
He saw the mess we wanted kept out of sight,
And for the joy set before him—made things right.