poem?

[mcbrat]

the snow is falling so lightly and it is a gift most precious to stand by a window as the freshness layers itself over the world urban.
we have claimed- starting from the earth up, built our safe protection from the world into the world.
blocks of buildings extend their rectangles to the air taller than trees even.
windowsills crisp with fluffy ice.
we have replaced our cold lightbulbs with warm ones to simulate the sun in our minds.
we have run from the outside since it was delineated that there are even two sides.
now rest.
the doors are closed, the rooms are warm and we never have to go outside again.
some so want to, bundling up our insides to bring them out,
where the snow clings to our moving fur and piles high,
just like the windowsill.
outside the danger is in staying still,
and inside danger is for leaving.
pursue the strange and delicate being of both.
when i am in i often yearn to go out.
and when i am out i often yearn never to return home.