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Literature Text

white crystals sprouted and sprinkled
over green grass and shallow waters
forming thin sheets of miniature suns,
ever growing, ever fusing, ever blinding

forcing what has not yet changed
into a diamondy dress, to be kept safe,
and into a long, deep, undisturbed sleep;
a false sense of time, itself, stopping

the frost alone will keep on going,
growing, building layers upon layers
of thin sheets of self-repairing glass
until the world is nothing but pure, white beauty

but there is always an end to this aggression
always, just like it returns, always
the end will come with a bow to the sun,
then begin again when we look away, voiceless

all this slow death, all this rapid life
due to the tilt of an axis.
autumn's first frost can be seen on the ground.. now there's no turning back.

i enjoy this orders of magnitude more if i read it out loud.

but read it however you want, folks, and please, comment! i love constructive criticism! :P

i hope the last two stanzas aren't lost to anyone, even though they require some basic knowledge of the earth..

i did some relatively minor edits based on *alapip's comment: i might edit more later, but i'll let it sink in like this now.. thanks again, alapip, for your comments! :)
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