Existence saunters in the frost,
and grows on the edge of glass,
it mists upon a window pane,
and builds its perfect mass.
As winter’s breath fills the air,
microlithic worlds are born.
Grasping hold in sudden flair,
with diamonds that adorn.
Perfection manifests through the gods,
planned by weathered light,
it crests and glitters in uniform,
and peaks at darkest night.
Waiting for the sun to rise,
and evolve another day,
foundations begin to crystalize,
to crown their fine array.
Divine existence comes to shine,
casting brilliance across the pane,
Where weeping sculptures then recline,to diminish from where they came.