"And I sat there at the patio, while the whole of universe, was getting engulfed, in the whitest whiteness of snow.Down, near my rough paw, is soft snow, mannering a fidgeting embryo.I monitored the snow that plunged, on the soil of my backyard, and realized it melting fast.Was that the temperature or, my eyes on it overcast?While I think of this melted exalt, I am obliged to ask, What ought happens to the thoughts?Where do they get tossed?When they are forgot?Scorched?Scoffed?Deformed? Unadorned?"