Where frost congeals in silent places, deep blue whispers of the faint and slight;
Not velvet-soft, nor blazing with fierce light.
Its edge like an old, half-kept vow, as pure as the heart’s inner gate;
A prism lets star-sparks through, rousing the dream’s soft state.
Shattered shadows cleave the long night — peerless beauty rises now;
Blue crystal blooms alone, its lucid sheen reflected on the glass.