Poets logo

A Viewfinder into The Past

Frosted Verse

By Moon DesertPublished about a year ago Updated about a year ago 1 min read
Photo by Samuel Ferrara on Unsplash, edited by the Author

The ice crevasse splits into a million pieces,

as snow gently falls into the deep abyss,

melting away, the effects slowly fade,

until they reach the sunlit surface, sparkling white.

---

The dark veil draws near and then lifts,

as the first snow petals grace its surface.

Silence surrounds me wherever I tread,

a subtle whisper of a secret passing by.

---

In its white attire, a snow watch

offers all that I require;

a gentle warmth from its breath,

and a guiding light held in gloved hands.

---

The harsh grasp of winter takes hold,

squeezing my crackling bones and muscles,

leaving a chilly lace upon my face,

false warmth, blunt and motionless.

---

I wave my hand, causing the frost to shake

as it sprinkles down like icing from the cake.

Memories of distant lands arise,

bringing forth a mix of emotions, solid and cold.

---

The paths, once filled with grief,

are now inconsolable and forgotten.

The snowy landscape mood has enveloped them,

causing it all to disappear.

---

Everything vanishes and resurfaces

in a new, powerful form,

fashioned from years drenched in tears

and buried emotions, hard to comfort.

---

Thank you for reading!

BalladElegyinspirationalnature poetrysurreal poetrysad poetry

About the Creator

Moon Desert

UK-based

BA in Cultural Studies

Unsplash

Crime Fiction: Love

Poetry: Friend

Psychology: Salvation

Where the wild roses grow full of words...

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments (1)

Sign in to comment
  • Andrew C McDonaldabout a year ago

    Such a lovely melancholy flow to this Mescaline… However, where you have … The paths, once filled with grief, are now inconsolable and forgotten. the word inconsolable seems in opposition to what you are saying as it doesn’t convey a concept of moving on or drifting away. Perhaps … The paths, once filled with grief, are now resigned, forgotten. Just a suggestion. Loved this poem. 💕😉

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2026 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.