YUKI: A Masterpiece
In silent descent, Yuki claims the air,
A fragile hymn no mortal hand can keep;
Each crystal breath, a prayer too pure to bear,
That falls like dreams the waking cannot reap.
The sky, in grief, lets go its hidden light,
And scatters truth in fragments cold and white;
Each flake, a whisper from forgotten years,
A trace of time dissolved in frozen tears.
What art is this that lives only to die?
A fleeting grace no warmth can reconcile;
It crowns the earth, yet fades without a cry,
Leaving no proof but memory’s soft exile.
So beauty blooms where loss and stillness meet,
And vanishes, yet leaves the soul complete.
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