Poem: Snow and Ash

Soft the flakes descend upon the waiting earth.
How gently fall they to the ground. 
Why are my dreams so filled with snow?
Why spy I winter from my bed? 

The ground and sky are white, 
the air is still and cold, 
and I know I must fight, 
must preach the truth untold. 

The world is cold, 
and hearts have frozen o'er.
The woods are silent. 
No one hears the words. 

The trees ascend unto the sky, 
the clouds fall down like ash, 
and all alone, I stand and sigh: 
there's nothing left but ash.