Time moves as light within us - luminous and ever near...
I often return to ponder on this work. Water forms the world's streams, lakes, oceans and rain. It is essential to our existence and covers over seventy percent of the earth. We drink it, wash with it, are chilled by it, warmed by it, saved by it, and endangered by it. We waste and cherish it in equal measure. We cook with it, have fun with it, show our sadness with it, generate power from it, and in snowy lands we build with it.
We are made mostly of water - this fluid of our life and world.
At the heart of every snowflake is a nucleus of dust. This tiny particle could originate from any number of places: the smoke from a forest fire; the minute specks of volcano ash that are pushed into the high atmosphere; the fine debris that falls from a meteor as it streaks across the sky; the microscopic particles picked up by the wind from plant spores and the cells of feather and skin that living things shed each day.
I ponder on the journey of a particle of dust. The dust from one living thing to another.
From someone standing on a hill looking skyward, from distant sand, and then for days across an ocean far below, until on high, ice crystals enfold and change the particle of dust to form a single snowflake that lightly tumbles to the earth and, after time, comes to fall upon my palm. I sense its cold but cannot feel its weight. like the image that accompanies the poem, it is as light as light itsesf, waiting to be known by the warmth of my attention. I easily ignore a solitary snowflake, yet its journey can be as great as any I have made.
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A Solitary Snowflake Falls
A speck of dust from soil or sand,
From powder down or loose brushed skin,
Encased within its centre lays,
A prick from past of living thing.
As snowflake falls,
The grain returns in shallow husk of crystal white,
Come gently lay upon this earth,
In wait and warmth in day or night.
