The snowman

The snowman doesn't know why The reasons are balanced perfectly by feelings … He was dealing last week with a snowstorm Wondering to know how many snowflakes could fall.. The snowman thinks of The pure joy of being alive ….. Now rain comes down in trickles, melting the snow And he feels to let all the weight of life fall to the ground and become a part of it.... He shines like a porcelain now, And he knows that he has nowhere else to go. He makes an effort to distinguishing between These two incommensurable realms, nature and freedom...... He examines the black hearses spanning out of white He discovers the twilight sky, the rising sun and this inconsequential world..... He understands that flourish of innocence and simplicity …. He makes an effort to distinguishing between His own immortality and his existence …. The snowflakes begin to fall so softly upon his ice heart The gentle snowflakes begin to fall again... A blackbird begins to hang the darkness of the night The whole world constitutes for him now a great ambiguity and elusiveness He remains tightly closed with his owner inside..... Significantly, the night begins to kill the day's seconds.... He makes an effort to distinguishing between The ineliminable inputs of external and internal sensations.... He begins to have his own consciousness.