life is in the small details, in the eyes, the wrinkles

our lives and dreams. the snowflakes that give it all

for a moment of beauty, then melt away silently to live again

the innocence of not knowing, and yet knowing all

in the essence of dead fish

in the last dew drop of the morning

in our windblown eyelashes

in the ever-present silence

in smiles offered by strangers

and the secret embrace of friends

life is in the tears shed in futile instants

without logic. life is in the living

in the mourning of life

in the hatred of life itself

in the crush of emotions

in the unwilling fog that covers our eyes

each day as we choose to live

to wonder, to continue this life

life is in the struggle of being

life is in the memories

of what will never again be

in the wet kisses we hold

ever present in our lives

in the soft caresses of wrinkled hands

life is the knowledge of ignorance

the colors hidden in ice

life is in the small details

in the wondrous act of being