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Description
Like delicate crystals, they fall.
Innumerable, and endless.
Shards of white, yet powder-soft.

Gravity defying, or so it seems,
But this is not a dream.

Through the fire,
Past the blaze,
Into the depths,
Where lay the amazed.

Their start-point forgotten,
Their destiny, unknown,
As they travel,
To his throne.

A maze, ablaze,
The fire twists and coils,
Stared at, by a gargoyle.

Falling closer,
To journeys end,
Engulfed by fire,
Or he would like to pretend.

There he sits proud,
The head of the crowd,
Trident held high,
Against those who defy.

Bemused, nonetheless,
By Mother's creation,
They fall on his cheek,
And he jolts a convulsion.

Now it snows in Hell.