Blinding white, crystal bright
the snow that calls from high.
The tug, like gravity upside-down,
pulls us towards the sky.
'Till the sky we meet and the track does end,
and we stop to look and see.
And we are thankful for this magnificent adventure,
and we feel the joy to be.
While we're there, we know full-well this place
can bite and take it all,
For dust is dust and snow does fly to
search a place to fall.
So, if it bites, and if we fall,
we'll cast a wish upon our brethren star,
that we don't forget the choice to live by
being up so far...
And that we've allready tread, so thankfully,
near where all the angels are.
by "Gliding"
posted on http://www.turns-all-year.com
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