With a wave of her arm the Mother envelops the urban jungle
in a frozen shroud
The beauty present for the eye to behold - conceals her plan
The ever-present din is rendered beyond a whisper
The frosting adorned world reflects the stranger that is I
The silent scream now spotlighted upon the stage of
tranquility
In either direction no one upon the horizon that might hear
Civilized cacophony
renders isolation from nature of Self
Masquerading as community – oozing disconnection
Which fiddler calls the tune – which Master shall then be
served?
For the moment gone the warmth of nurture or nature
Soon escorted upon the diesel driven blade
The return of the hum of modern living
Will I once again be enticed by it’s melody?
Or have I now been effectively awakened from my slumber?
Called from within to lie upon the frozen playground
My exit yields the snow angel of my youth
Perhaps she will hear my cry?
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