The Art in Frozen Time

It was snowing and the sun was setting. The trees were swaying with the rhythm the wind set for it. The snow trickled all around me. In the distance, I saw a man walking away slowly fading into the distance. I can almost feel the snow drifting all around me now. It was such an exquisite moment. One could describe it as almost sacred. Like mother earth had done this on purpose. Letting me have not even a sip of what power she holds or what beauty she is graced with. The footprints and car tracks in the road only served to remind me what other people had walked here as well. Had they observed this beauty as well? The bodies buried in graves. Had they danced here? Had they walked here when it was all but silence? And here I am just one person taking a photo of an everlasting second. It is but one moment. One moment trapped in one picture frame forever. Will anybody ever observe this picture as I do? Or will it just be another winter photo for the backdrop of a phone? Another picture for the internet to hide among her many files? Just nothing? Is that all this picture is to them? To the world? Maybe. But to me, this photo is beauty and history. History of what is already past. Of what passed not more than a moment after it was born. The snowflakes trapped forever in that position. The trees never finishing the dance they begun. And yet it seems that forever ago they did.

Photo and poem by: smileyfacehappi1