It's cold outside. But you know what? In days now comes the scorching heat. Blazing sun beating down upon the seasonless wasteland, ground cracked and chipped till the crust of the Earth itself flakes off into the stars, seeking sweet refuge, soft haven from this harsh, burning, engulfing, all-consuming heat.
But now. Sweet breeze. Somber somniloquy of a sleeping Godhead who so lazily floats through the heavens. Gingerly his touch brushes the clouds, the ice shaves away and it scatters; a diaspora in flakes of the kingdom above, so that mortals may feel the touch of the touch of the brush of something more, if only for a day. If only for a day...may this Winter reign eternal so that my languid corpse may sit in the frost, if only for another minute, if only for a day.