The Fallen Snow

1546410_10200348226066454_1284151237000623063_nThe things of Heaven, falling effortlessly to mingle with the stuff of Earth.. The pure white flakes falling so freely, with no pattern or rhythm, but yet poetic in beauty. Some linger in the air longer, while others rush to cling to what is nearest, and the rest falling to the earth covering it like a blanket of white cotton.
For a moment the earth is bathed in beauty. For a fraction of time what was drab and unbecoming has a magical charm. The scars, the well worn paths, the blemishes are covered up.
Light reflects off each crystal. Making everything brighter, clearer… In the1463061_10200348226986477_9020332311870182659_n night, the street lamps shimmer off the snow illuminating all that once was just shadows.. The world, for a moment, seems soft.. Welcoming.. In gazing at it, Peace covers the mind like the snow on the trees. Yet, after time, the things of heaven, that which was pure and untouched, mingles with the stuff of earth and becomes dirty, at best.. And worst in the well worn areas..
The white has turned to a gray hew. A blackish powder covers the once white crystals. The beauty is darkened and discolored. What was once magical, transforming, has become darkened and depressing. The ground is no longer soft and welcoming, but soiled and depressing… I wonder if the later is not worst off than that which was in the former, before the fall…?
10897857_10204649968426775_7695144801637191466_n   This is not magical. This is not beauty. Does beauty fade so quickly? Does it leave faster than it comes?? Do the things of Heaving mingle so awfully with the stuff of earth?? Can the two co-exist?  Or is the world so harsh and conditions so bad that beauty can not keep its form?
I am not beautiful. I have fallen to earth, rushing to find the ground, other times clinging to what is nearest to me. People see me white, sparkly even, but I am neither. The stuff of earth has me in its grips. The scars of the well worn paths are showing their marks. That which should be reflective is now tarnished. Have I become gross and unwelcoming? Has the beauty faded so fast? I long for the things of Heaven to mingle with the stuff of earth, for beauty to stay, and not fade.. And for the light to keep reflecting, pushing the shadows away