The Great Stillness

A velvet hush descends on frosted pane,

As silent stars observe the falling grace.

Each feather-light, ethereal, snowy rain,

Erases echoes, leaves no hurried trace.

The city's hum, a distant, muted sigh,

Is swallowed whole by winter's soft embrace.

No creaking branch, no wind that whistles high,

Just endless quiet in this sacred space.

The world transformed, a canvas pure and bright,

Beneath the moon, a silvered, watchful eye.

A fragile beauty born from endless night,

Where thoughts take wing and silent moments fly.

The soul finds solace in this deep repose,

A whispered truth, a comfort softly spun.

The midnight snow, a secret it bestows:

That peace can bloom when every sound is gone.