Snowflake in Hell

Examining the hapless soul before me, who was quivering from bewilderment and exhaustive deliberation, I considered how to revise my approach. The current strategy was proving to be an intensive exercise in futility; degenerating as each elaborate explanation only yielded further lines of questioning. Newcomers were an increasing rarity among those who returned, time after time, to continue their work. In recent memory, the process for most required little more than a friendly voice to welcome them back and a brief run-down of the routine. Somewhat deflated from dissecting and rehashing fundamental concepts, I peered wearily at the flighty creature.

All-knowing, I scoffed to myself silently, knowing more hardly equates to knowing all. The notion of a single, absolute point of knowledge offends the nature and purpose of that which is knowable. Despite the intimate and notable experience of creating the universe itself, imparting understanding upon an inexperienced soul is a delicate process, extrinsic to the bare iteration of facts and events.

It had not been this difficult in the past. The early-cycle souls, in the beginning, were less discerning, and more readily accepted the truths of the universe. Outside of the undisturbed purity at the center of life, exists the precise and delicate conditions necessary for growth. Suspended within a frenzied whirl of chaos, the pristine nuclei souls absorb and react to their respective environments, amassing vital elements. When the phase finally comes to term, the physical body expires, and the quintessence is drawn back to the center-- to me, imbibed with deeper distinction.

I pitied this callow tenderfoot emerging as an infant into an advanced growth environment. Over lifetimes of development and preparation, the majority population currently thrives in a terrain rife with sensations, options, proximity, and a constant stream of disjointed dialogue; mass-publicized and filtered through the lens of each individualized aggregate composition. To be fresh at such a time, it was no small wonder when young soul professed to glad to see the end of life.

Life has not ended, I am life, and you are of me. As I bleed, so are you born. You are life! The words inside me felt as though they should be deafening throughout the cosmos. Eternal life is not a commodity that is inherited or bartered for, like a diamond necklace. Rather, it is fluid and stimulating, like flecks of snow hurling through the forces of nature. Agglomerating new resources from the environment, the ice crystals are fused together as millions of microscopic chains. The crystals continue to form and amass as much as the elements will allow, before drifting, settling, melting and evaporating back into the cycle.

The composition of matter within a single snowflake functions as a map, tracing the lifecycle journey of the flake all the way back to the source of origin, illuminating the fantastical twists, turns, and climate changes along the way. By the end of the journey, the matter is transformed by the experience but is no less water than it was before. As a drop or flake may bond back with a river which may lead to the sea, so do all the billions of droplets come rolling back into the fold of my embrace.

With the solution to my tempestuous residual now brilliantly clear, the words flowed away. I shifted, unknotting my salty expression to open fully toward the soul. In the stillness, the energy between us had changed, all the tension of misunderstanding dissipated. I could see a similar change from the frothy, ill-formed wisp who had flustered vexation throughout the otherwise sterile sanctuary, not long prior. Now, our common chemistry was magnetizing, as it should, as it always does when tension is released, and natural order is allowed its due course. It will be alright. I told us. Next time, and the time after, it will be alright. Without effort, our molecules drifted together, melting like a snowflake on the surface of a still pond.

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