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Click herecome with me past fields of snow
sun low in the sky
hold your arms out as we walk
perhaps we can fly,
slide into the velvet world
wind and cloud and mirth
somewhere between cold hard death
awakening and birth,
what brings us to this point in time
this point in spinning space
why are we who we are
in the human race,
paths entwine like floating smoke
carried by the breeze
a brief moment long ago
a stop-motion freeze,
I remember it like yesterday
a memory so clear
like watching me watch myself
in a magic mirror,
but then reality takes hold
feet impact the ground
all I hear, the rushing wind
and winter all around,
I don't like a "stop-motion freeze" as it literally stops the progress of the poem. How about "slow" instead of "stop?"