unfinished

There are winters that last years,
There are nights that last for months
There are places in the world where the dark skies are filled with colorfull lights from a chilling reality,
that people of the summer lands could only call fantasy.
Rules do not aply.
Repetition does not indicate prediction,
and that harsh knowledge is pushed away by rules,
that do not aply.

There are flowers that grow under feet of snow.
As I watched it fall, from the window of a temporary home, summer would change into winter in hours of sleep. Because rules do not aply.
As I fled summer into winter, rules of continuous time, of cicles, rules of passages and phases, melted into ice.