We start by making snowmen of ourselves.
The likeness isn’t true (but that’s a fault
of snow). We cover it with precious metals
and jewels, then we build a worship hall
in which to place our decorated snowman selves,
although by now the snow has almost melted.
Each day we strive towards
a better future,
forgetting that the days we’ve lived already
are in the hands of Death, our daily lives
dissolving like the snowman’s snow.
And what of these endeavours? What indeed.
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