Snowflakes, cold storm…. You feel like a ghost, reaching out to another ghost. Unaware. The flakes fall from the sky… the cold brutal wind has a pleasant bite. footsteps are the only sound. grey is the only color. The ghost speaks, unheard remains the voice. Invisible, unseen, unnoticed. Imagine one could touch and listen. What would be left to say? Wind whistles the backdrop. Your stomach is upside down and trying to escape through your mouth. Time slurs and wobbles under its own weight. Snowflakes melt onto your nose. You look at the sky. It feels like we are ALL  falling… ever so hastily. falling down. The distance remaining to impact is enormous, so enormous we forget. indeed WE ARE spiraling from the sky standing on a rock, grasping onto our fragile dreams, even the tiniest of them finding a place in between clenched fingers. falling. Geese fly and stare. God is the water turned to ice jagged in our eyes. Synchronicity brought us to the same place, at the same time, yet too far apart for connection. only remembrance remains. Perhaps it is all which is needed. When you see somebody you love…yet no longer know.