Deconstructing a Snowstorm

What lies hidden underneath

the ever-moving wall of whiteness?

Behind the legions of individuals

portraying a united stance.

Are we to assume that similarity

has meaning beyond what’s on the surface?

Momentary windows reveal a grayness

that invokes feelings of satirical gloom.

A snowstorm with a conscious perhaps,

yet morose and unhappy with itself.

Is there a message that projects itself so loud

that it’s beyond our comprehension to hear it?

Watching the path of a single swirling flake

does nothing but add additional confusion.

It’s a single vehicle in a great congestion

of commuters with different intentions.

The direction is everywhere and nowhere

but subtly kept from anyone’s knowledge.

And the frequency lends a feeling of uncertainty

as life often does.

Derivation of the depth, age, and length

of a snowstorm seems a mathematical impossibility.

But the attempts continue to be made

by ambitious calculators and statisticians.

Perhaps the digression does something

to divert our attention from the growing drifts.

Another worthy layer of debate emerges

each time our perspective changes.

Strange how looking skyward at falling flakes

evokes something magical and wonderful.

When looking down at the ground the accumulation

invokes opposition to that same beauty.

The conundrum of classification becomes more

than just a scholarly endeavor.

Is the message of the crowded sky

more important than that of the ground?

Or is the entire premise of both appearances

simply another illusion?

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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all.I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed.I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another.I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me.I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

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