stumbling out from under the steeple,
snow-flakes soft-fall silently
blankly blanketing streets in sheets of snow
and the grim and ghastly greyness of the globe
is white-washed a wonderous winter-white
and my grim and ghastly scarlet-sin
is vanished and vanquished
by the heavens’ heapèd flakes of forgiveness.
the snow-hid sun sinks.
still sweet salvation’s snow-sheet
shines splendid in sparkling starlight.
the midnight moon glances askance
(through the jazz-blue atmosphere,
as the still-falling snow floats)
at the still-falling jazz-notes
gliding gently down on earmuffed ears.
dancing softly upon the delicate dreams
which underlie my feet,
i dance down the street
my snow-white soul pirouetting on the ice.
still dancing the steps of salvation
i rise from my dream-deep snow-stained sleep
to find the sun rising through
the still-falling jazz-notes of the snow,
battling its way through the bebop blue
upward unto the pinnacle of day.
and in the soft-snow-sheeted streets
the world walks its wayward way
over the bride-white blanket
of my snow-baptised being,
their blinded eyes scarcely seeing
the dirt-encrusted damage trod into me
by the unwashed souls of their dusty feet.
so i walk the winding way,
believing through the long dark nights
that come the morning the sun will rise,
and battle back through the weather’s winds
toward that snow-lined steeple
whence falls the sin-silencing snow.
(i’ve never seen so much snow falling.)