Allgewaltig, allzermalmend
Donnert die Lawine hin,
Eine zarte, weiche Flocke
War sie im Beginn.

Und das Weh, das mich zertrümmert,
Das entsetzliche Geschick,
War im Anfang nur ein stiller,
Kaum verstandner Blick.

Mia Holm
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