Crystal Tears

The cold moves the air
to weep crystal tears
gliding as they fall
in silent lifetimes
illuminated by the moon.
And by the fickle chance of creation
rendered unique.
Endlessly appreciative, I sleep,
dreaming I am each life,
each death all at once,
in a breath of cold air
like memories glancing
off the lens of the world
to lie on top of each other.
Till blended in death by the sun.
Ne’er to follow the anonymous jostle
of the wind, as only me.
Till arriving at the top of the circle
I am returned anew and
the cold moves the air to weep.