Snowflakes are falling on my upturned face.
Night’s a black ocean, crossed by tiny white sails
A pattern’s in each, like intricate lace.
Who is weaving such Byzantine detail?

Night’s a black ocean, crossed by tiny white sails
Mathematic precision seems at play.
Who is weaving such Byzantine detail?
A choreography, a perfect ballet!

Mathematic precision seems at play.
A flawless glissade, pirouettes the night.
A choreography, a perfect ballet!
A play of darkness dancing with light.

A flawless glissade, pirouettes the night
A pattern’s in each, like intricate lace.
A play of darkness dancing with light.
Snowflakes are falling on my upturned face.

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