the life of a snow flake is probably the most depressing life ever lived.. Each one is so unique, that is what they are known for, for being complete individuals. They are so beautiful for the meer fact that they are can not be reproduced. So they are created, in their own distinguished ways, and fall a mile from the sky to land on the road, on your windshield, on your face, or to just land on top of the millions of snow flakes that fell on the ground before it.

If a snow flake falls on the road, it is met with the tonage of you car, crushing it into the pavement, where the warmth of the tires and friction are sure to melt it into oblivion, and if it doesnt melt there, then it will surely melt in the sea of salt that comes tumbling out of the big yellow trucks of the Department of Transportation. And if a snow flake is still strong enough to with stand that abuse...(continued)...

it is scooped away, covered in ash, and mixed together with burned rubber, and dirt, and grime, and compacted together with all the other snow flakes that met the same fate. They will rot together in a mountain of dirty snow, with a street light protuding out the peak, like a flag, claiming that hill top in the name of the Wal Mart parking lot it is in. And with every beam of sunlight on that pile of dirt and snow, and with every degree the temperature rises, a snow flake cries, "sweep me up."

On those rare occasions, when a child is out playing in the snow, perhaps building a snowman, or sled riding, or even laying on the ground waving his or her arms and legs up and down, and up and down, until the pattern of an angel emerges in the snow. Only then can a snow flake realize its full potential. And only then can a snow flake die knowing that it has fullfilled its purpose in life. That purpose being engaging the life of a human being, reminding them of the earth's wonderous beauty, exposing them to the awesome energy and activity that occurs right under our noses, right infront of our eyes, every day, and we barely ever take the time to notice. And on those rare occasions, when a snow flake slowly melts away on a six year old's rosey red cheek, the world is silent, exept for the innocent laughing of a child playing in the snow.