Tonight, I come as the blowing wind that knocks against your frosty windowpane, lighter than your breath yet heavier than the air you breathe. Will you walk towards my call in the dark and place your palm upon the glass, that I may feel your warmth? Should you decide to let me in on this night, it is I who will blow the frost into your lungs.
Does it hurt?
Feel my weight but not my touch, my words but not what's intended-- wird alles gut.
I am the wind that travels without the grace of angels, seeking only to kiss the cheek of those I encounter. By tomorrow, even the dust that I have put in your hair will have returned to me as we float on away, with the time we are denied.
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