It is a beast that he chases, that chases him
Motion to a moment of stillness
Silence, the flakes kiss his lips, and graze the lashes
Wind shears west to east
White blankets, a breath is taken
Trees are lines between these lines
Limbs have been broken
They still dangle limply in the wind
Shadows play with what they have
The branches give under the weight of it all
He looks again, and there's another set of prints
It's gaining speed and so shall he
He never turns back once
He knows if he does he will be caught
For this he has never seen it
And pray he never will
He never sees it coming
Yet this scene repeats itself
In a sequence of that existence