“When your voice is soft like snow,
all the words you pick to show,
that even your nothing can be a good rhyme.

Like snow, since of water, the snowflakes are made,
the water flows soft, yet it cuts right through jade…

Words make a path, in Eternal mind-planes,
while thoughts turn to actions, eternal, from brains…

Our actions are done sometimes meaning without,
And someone once wrote, they give dreams here… about.

Somewhere in the boundless grey mists dreams sprout…”