The Snow Moon ascends in sacred stillness,
a silver eye watching the snow capped globe,
Winter kneels beneath its gaze,
and time slips into contemplation.
This moon does not command,
it whispers messages softly.
Release, it says, what has finished its lesson.
Let old weights fall into the snow,
where nothing is judged,
only softened.
In this white hush,
clarity is not found by seeking
but by listening.
The soul learns again how to wait,
how to trust the unseen work of cold darkness.
For even now,
when breath turns to frost
and paths seem sealed with icy chains,
the Divine is shaping you in silence,
guiding you into the sweet spring.
Remain still.
Remain faithful.
What is meant to bloom
stirs in the seed beneath the snow!
The seed sprouts beneath the cold snow!
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