december

snow has blanketed the earth, enveloped my world in silence. nothing is still. thousands of snowflakes are falling, conjoining and convening and covering everything. i can see my fingertips in the light of the moon, the streetlamps, the reflection of the pristine, sparkling snow. no, nothing is still.

my father's funeral was on sunday. it is so strange not to be immortalized in memory, but to be the one to continue. as i sat in the church of my childhood, i was able to see my life juxtapose itself with another time, another version of itself. in snow-covered fields, nothing changes, nothing moves. the stillness contrasts my dynamic soul, the dynamic snow. my mind cannot stay in one place, but runs, terrified of being fettered and held captive. my heart dreams of becoming lost.
my heart dreams of following my father in his gypsy footsteps across the continent. i want to be like him; i want to be and create beautiful things. he was a musician. no, nothing is still.