Preaching Peace

Trembling in the silence of a fresh snowfall, awaiting the struggle of laughter and tears, the beautiful that comes from stars shadowed by flakes so gentle they seem to speak silence into the spirit – like the voice of a vision, preaching peace ~ quote by poet Secreted beneath the gentle fragments, shivering, Blown in piles, demanding as January’s piercing light, Silence caressing the stones, the oaks, the pines, In glistening reflections, hearts possessed, By the indigo skies who are burning with grace, Speckled with sensations, amazement – Sweltering in the 12 degree rays, where moments Tend to breath in the crispness and release brilliance, In waves, wisdom from the hunger Ravenous appetites, awaiting the colors of light, Friendly aromas of souls, newly blooming, Emitting sounds that go on, unnoticed, echoes, Vibrations trembling in soothing sighs… Melodious blessings, ranging from hearts to insights, Lifting the nights on wings of angels, Promising the heavens to release the broken hearts, Send comfort to the earth in the form of snow, Who breathes a quiet truth, silence… Beaming from the tender scales, shavings of ice, Glittery and crisp, crumbling into moments, When the laughing sun kisses the blanketed ridges, Stirring the scene so that only the blurry vision, Squinted from eyes who remember – On the snow covered land there is plenty to glimpse, But only the blinded eyes can truly remember, How the sparkling snow seemed to shudder and shake, In silence… deciding just how significant How consuming is the silence of a shadow, Reflected on the land whose bathed in fresh white, The frosty sheen of hope breathing its lasting glance, Over the peaceful promise of this kind and graceful spectacle, Commotion in brilliance, awakening the spirit, With a wonderful white home where the fires crack, Popping so that even the wood can feel the flames traveling, Deep into the bones, risking tragedy… To be lauded by the sensations of Winter’s amazing, Winter chasing the dreams, the belief, the faded hope… For those silhouettes who follow the moon, Ride the stars and twinkle like the deathlike grief, Who arranges for even the darkness to be plucked from the earth, By the fresh fallen flurries who break away the brittle, Soothing souls so that they’re sanctified by the sentimental.