Winter's Silent Pause

Winter is sorrow unmasked.  

It is the stillness of life retreating,  

the very breath that once warmed the earth now stolen by the cold.  

The frost that grips the land is not cruelty, but truth,  

revealing the bare bones of existence,  

carving into the soul as deeply as joy once filled it.  

Is not the snow that blankets the ground  

the same water that once quenched the thirst of spring?  

And is not the silence of winter the echo of a song  

that the summer winds carried to the heavens?  

Look into the heart of winter, and you will see  

not death, but a resting—  

a waiting for what will bloom again.  

For the cold that stiffens the body,  

the darkness that clouds the mind,  

are but shadows cast by the light yet to come.  

Winter is not an ending, but a pause,  

a solemn hymn sung to the cycles of life.  

And when the warmth returns,  

it is the frost that will remind you  

how deeply life must endure to rise again.