As the world whirls around me, I stand silent in a sentient forest that holds it’s breath waiting for me. All of the insanity of the world gets drawn into this absorbent silence; the snow is a permeable substance gathering all of the hate surrounding it and reflecting it back as beauty. Winter is a time of deep pondering and becoming child-like once more. There is a purity in the way those trees are drifted upon with a blanket of snow, inviting all present into a revelry unsurpassed by any other.
And as I wander through these woods; how lovely, dark, and deep; there is naught but a promise given to me of any other sort than that which I desire and seek. The snow covers all: the brokenness; the sorrows; the suffering, and it accentuates all that is good and pure and infinitely joyful in the world. Oh how deeply thankful I am to receive the blessings of winter- the promises it holds, the forgiveness it holds, and all the beauty within its frozen breath. How can it be possible to be so joyful and weightless, and at the same time be so crushed by this world? To smile with true joy and yet be brokenhearted simultaneously? To be on this world, but not in it? To be perfectly still while in my mind is off roving and rambling and frolicking across this great, expansive world?