Muscle memory, its folds and flows,
wraps me in a billowing cloud.

The snow has shrouded every path,
every avenue and road.

Whereas before the stars showed only
reflections of what was already there,

they now reveal new entities and shapes.
The drapes are duly drawn.

On the lawn, whispers
put forth a cryptic inquiry.

Tomorrow is an unconquerable vastness.
Today is merely steam.

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