The Endless Snow.

These are the days that fill my soul with splendor. With magic, in the truest sense of the word.

Nothing but the endless snow and a world that has fallen into a deep slumber.

I’m the only one out there.
The only one moving.

There is no war. Only peace that exists these days.

A new word to your poem or idea comes with every fresh snowflakes that falls.

So the world is my playground to explore and just watch, with a soul and mind that is as quiet as the fallen snow. There couldn’t be a rush these days even if you tried to. There’s nowhere to be except right where you are and you know that in every step you take, in any direction you go.

Grateful.

The days where truly nothing matters.

I live for the weather. The days when no way not to notice the elements. The days when the gods remind you just how small and powerless you truly are. That were always at the mercy of Mother Nature, no matter what mood she’s in.

I die during the days that are all the same. No texture. No color.

I drive in the silence. As silent as the night. But I know the suns up there. Somewhere. I can feel it with all my might.