New fallen snow that covers the ground,
In the morning after, there is never a sound.
Or the beams of the moon that light up the night,
It is never hurtful, nor is it ever too bright.
It was always imagined as the flood of soft feathers,
A creature in our myths that make us a little better.
The soft shade of chocolate when it's at its sweetest,
When it melts on your tongue it isn't the weakest.
The calm scent of a rose, colorless but sweet,
Is the purist form of devotion no matter how deep,
The color of a bond formed by lovers at heart,
On the day that they promise never to part.
It’s the shade less shapes of fluff in the sky,
Things we sit and just watch them pass by.
The air that we breathe when high in the hills,
No worries, no problems and the world just stills.
It’s the color of marriage, the color of peace,
The color of skin when the soul is released.
Pure and innocent, it is also the end,
Where the walls of reality tend to shift and bend.
Death, love, life, and hope.
It’s in the blank of these pages that I've learned to cope.
It’s a wish of mine that you'll find it too.
The great joy in life, of starting anew.
White is mystery, white is magic, and cannot pretend.
It has no beginning and it has no end,
It is eternal.