I quite like how snow meets sky,
How the whiteness seems to blend,
How to most it's insignificant,
Though that I can't pretend,

In frail union interchangeable,
Becoming and unbecoming,
Unbeknownst and barely able,
Harmoniously obscuring something,

It's so much easier to grasp at ground,
Though a thrilling enigma to fly,
And when torn between two it still seems to me,
We're most times stuck in our why,
As drifts drag along and double down,
My perception fails and looses time,
Cracks appear in more than just ice,
For no reason and no apparent rime,

The rocks peak out from under,
The snow it's sure to lift,
I soon begin to wonder,
Sure as my mind has drifts,
I accept the peak is coming,
It know it always was,
Denial is unbecoming,
For I see it's patent cause,

I'd rather spend what time there is,
Torn between the two,
Never quite holding on to one,
Nor flung into the hue,
For shelves of ice are less and less,
And snow is blinding still,
I peek to something summiting,
And push beyond our will,

Then finally I will reach it,
Though when I know now not,
And steadily I'll love them both,
Lest I jump from off the top.