Snow comes again,
Painting from the top down.
Winter is an illusionist,
Hiding the dark things in white,
Pushing it indoors
Where it can be forgotten for a while.
It is cold and uncaring
Like most of the universe
With its vast airless space.
It is only a body that creates its own warmth.
Only another can offer solace
From the empty reaches of existence.
Alone, there is no one to offer anything to,
No one to receive anything from.
Alone is an empty ocean, devoid of life.
Together is the beginning of things,
The emergence of life in the new world.
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