Halt, you tell the naked earth.
Let my spirit speak its piece.
But nothing ordinary
stops the world.
Yet you are not
but a snowflake still.
You open like a flower
to the sun, your nectar
for the bees on a summer's day
You close when winter comes.
And good or bad, you keep
only what you release.
Your soul stretches to the sky
or just in your mind's eye.
Your heart opens or closes
to harvest heaven or hell,
Love or fear.
Your love hangs on
this dainty thorn,
holds your crown there tight.
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