The wind turned about <br />and blew the keen squall into <br />my glasses. I started to count the snowflakes <br />on the left lens but it was an impossible labor <br />so I ceased and scanned the field. Snow <br />swirled directly before my face and in the distance <br />well beyond the horizon line. <br />Still, no matter how many snow-crystals descended <br />there would always be a number <br />but my eyes were not sufficient to the task, <br />and amid all this whirling profusion <br />no two would ever be identical. <br />I tried to walk on my hands but couldn’t <br />and tumbled to the terrain <br />and heard orange salamanders deep asleep <br />in a dreamless world. <br />I felt immensely joyful. <br />I didn’t care anymore. <br />Here was a place for me lost <br />in a billion billion snowflake falls. I didn’t care. <br />Unbounded generosity grounded <br />my mind. Surely others should <br />feel this and know, at least once, <br />life without clinging to desire. The sharp particles slammed me with ease <br />and melted on my <br />warm nose as easily. In this state <br />what could be taken? <br />One could only give.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wintry-birth/
