I drift amongst the clouds of lost soul,
I float, I float, I float.
I am lost in a beautifully translucent prism,
Somewhere between arrogance and self-doubt's spectrum.
Afraid I'm not special or unique,
Or no one's ever good enough for me;
Perhaps my search will never come to a halt.
I float, I float, I float.
It's a divine irony, that I should live so doubtfully,
That a snowflake questions its individuality,
That it even tries to find its perfect copy.
Am I foolish to pursue this illusive fantasy?
The unforgiving wintry gale is finally easing...
A cold, arid companion in all my years of drifting.
Let me rest on an early daffodil,
Where I am thawed into a drop of dew.
Let go of Winter's unintentional vengeance,
Capture and savour the new season's sweet fragrance.
I don't have to be a confused molecule,
Chasing a dream reserved for the chosen few.
I am who I am, regardless of my form or state,
I am ice, rain, mist and a floating strand of haze.
I will find my way to the infinite Ocean,
And be an inseparable part of the graceful perfection.
I may still be a snowflake yet to land,
But my heart surrenders to the unknowable Plan;
Striving to find what makes me whole,
I float, I float, I float.