Snow Without Footprints

Most likely I won’t give any more
and won’t want to take anything in.
Most likely I’ll be left alone,
and most likely it will look like winter.

Most likely it will look like snow
at daybreak, white and without footprints.
There the silence will beckon to me
for an icy, passionate embrace.

Then I will no longer know
and will ask no more.
Deaf I’ll remain. And mute.
And it will be like flying away.