We mustn't want it all.

It's cold out. The snow has finally begun to fall, drift, surround us. But below it's deceitfully soft, silky surface lies unsighted a layer of solid ice. Anything but harmless, it waits immobile - a predator to uncautious wanderers of the road. Teeth chatter, fingers and toes are deprived of feeling, the mind thinks of nothing but home. It is in this state that we labourously trudge onward through the ever-growing heaps of snow toward warmth, protection, shelter. And when at last, what was simply a fantasy becomes reality before our very eyes, we will reminisce of the soft, silky snowflakes, of the comforting blanket upon us.