Burnt Ice

Sometimes, when the noise from the world explodes, blurring out everything.

Within a white forest there's a hum of a lullaby. its quite and holds no value, its as if time doesnt pass...if it weren't for the constant snow it could easily trick the mind into thinking you were gazing upon a photo.

The ice nips at the skin lighting blue fires that scold, sending a flash of white heat, turning the flesh red.

The snow danced, taking there time as they weaved through the billions of trees this story doesnt begin with a flake of snow...its begins with a pool of crimson red dressed in white.