Child of Winter Light

She stands again on the hill of memory, snow whispering secrets to the trees. The pond below holds its breath, mirroring a sky painted in pink, blue, and violet grace. The full moon rises — a lantern of promise in the cold.

This is the child who never left, the one who still looks upward, still listens for the voice that speaks through silence. Her breath becomes prayer, her stillness becomes worship. Every flake that falls is a word from Heaven, every shimmer of moonlight a reminder: You were seen then. You are seen now.

The woods cradle her like memory, and the snow does not chill — it sanctifies. She is not lost in the winter; she is found in the fire beneath the frost. The same Spirit that called her to look up still calls her now — to rise, to remember, to shine.