Man of Snow.

Man of Snow.

Day 1.

Cold and unfamiliar hands rub into me. Raw to touch, they pat new flesh deep into the cracks that form by my nature. They smooth it out to melt that immediate sting away. Some wear gloves, others don’t. Parades of hands glide over me making me stronger. Their generosity breathes life into me. Slowly one eye opens. The world is beautiful. My other eye opens and brings in a new light. White, honest, clear, I see smiles and am grateful to the hands that made me.

Day 2.

The world is more active today. I see new things. I see such lights and much movement. The hands that made me use my earth to create more life. I see a reflection of myself in another life created in front of me. There is fighting between different groups, old and young. Everyone still smiles but as I am hit by one of their missiles, a hand that made me takes part of me with it to their war.

Day 3

Yesterday’s actions have changed the world. No longer white, honest and clear, I see the earth for what it is - a hard surface, both black and grey. The life in front of me itself is greying, it loses its shape. Its mouth is disfigured and I wonder if I appear the same. The earth is heating up under flames and the hands come out to remove what’s left since yesterday’s fighting. One hand approaches me. It appears larger as it towers over me. Larger and larger its fingers pinch at my eyes. There is no clear world before me now. There is darkness and it is beautiful.