He floats down on a winter night,
Obscured from all,
His body, pure, his skin, unblemished,
Almost flawless,
With a pattern, never seen, a design never created,
Yet simple.

He is the first to appear on this cold windy night,
Lonely without friends,
Falling endlessly encompassed in black,
Hopelessly shivering,
Approaching a destination, an unknown goal,
Uncertain doom.

His life is insignificant, his existence meaningless,
Acknowledged by none,
Individually he has the power to do nothing,
Weak,
Trapped in a cycle unable to act,
Useless.

For an eternity he lives,
Enjoyable,
He dances in the air,
Mesmerizing,
As he approaches, his fate becomes clear,
Yet he continues to dance.
It is time he meets with the Earth,
He is violated,
His body is attacked, tainted in the dirt,
Impure,
His body is over come and can't breathe,
Can't live.

The searing pain is excruciating,
Unbearable even,
But he does not give in, he does not cry,
Silence,
Momentarily his beautiful body is changed,
Deformed, disfigured.

From the sky, they come to join him,
But he is gone,
Arriving in the millions they come,
But they are too late,
If only they had come sooner,
He wouldn't have had to be alone,
He wouldn't have had to cry,
He wouldn't have had to die.

A Tragic Life

The first snow flake to fall on a winter night is sad and lonely as it dances by itself to the ground.