To where a snowflake dies

A war in heaven reluctantly concedes
Unto the lullaby's singing softly amid the night
Covering us in its heavenly blows
As feathers falling so intense and gracefully light
Escaping God's white watery coves

And somewhere up above...
I believe there are angels grooming
Thus, for the twilight showing, shedding as they rush
The world as such, always in a hurry
But, for an instance and out of nowhere
An avalanche of marvel captivates the hush

And in my distant mind I most certainly can relate
As to the stars and grains of ancient sands
My tongue to toast these miracles of wonder
Reaching further to acquiesce
In greetings, to miniature designs
Crafted out of God's very hands

While, celestial bodies move
In constant shadows
With the human mind
Thus, begins the ends of dusk
To where a snowflake dies

Look around...
Who is it that seems to care?
Or thinks to ponder the manual labor here
With hammers, chisels, nuts and bolts
Never a witness to a mistake
Or a discover to the simplest of error

Yet, I listen… to the silence…
Extracting all its pleasure
Before, another million frigid seedlings ashen
Meet with daunting fate
And in the still of the tranquil
Neither snowflake cries out or offers up complaint

For a day
Or merely several nights more
A complex purpose
Or to thus,a simple existence?
Then, I pause...
Unto supposition as I meditate

Guesses drift into the unknown
Of the never ending knowing
Embracing their provident life
And I watch as they cuddle close
Waiting, within a bleach of ice
To a scene of newer flakes of snowing