You say to the person with 60 poems in their NaPo thread.
Snowflakes (fall quietly Like ballerinas tiptoeing on the ice Their slippers searching beneath the lake's frozen surface For something lost long ago Their cold ice crystals Shimmering in the winter wind Cold hands clawing and breaking through Arms hugging the water As they slowly disappear Slowly merging into the icy waters Their unique beauty bubbling away)
That's how we should measure our lives. Not in distance traveled, or time passed, or worlds conquered, but in moments... and the rush of joy—of grace—that exists within them. — Megatron (Lost Light, by Roberts, Lawrence, Lafuente)
