Snow moves like mountain ash,
yet we look up too late.
Who will save us now?
Fate takes the snow,
makes it fall differently,
and we are whole.
We continue to move.
There is only death and decay
to leave behind
since the great war of 2046.
Poetry | Stories | Photography
Snow moves like mountain ash,
yet we look up too late.
Who will save us now?
Fate takes the snow,
makes it fall differently,
and we are whole.
We continue to move.
There is only death and decay
to leave behind
since the great war of 2046.