đšïž The Snowlflake Dream
âïž When winter settles and silence blankets the world, snowflakes become messengers of light.
Some dance, some land gently, and a few â rarer ones â dream..
Today, discover the story of Névé, a little snowflake who, before melting, wanted to touch the heart of a human being.
A gentle parable about fragility, the invisible trace of sincere gestures, and the magic that remains in simple things. âïž
âïž Birth of a Dream
In the great silence of winter, while the world slept under a crystal blanket, a little snowflake awoke in the sky.
Born from a silver cloud, light as a breath, pure as a new thought.
His name was Névé.
And from his very first flutter, he dreamed.
Not an ordinary dream⊠but an immense dream: to touch the hearts of humans.
â âWhy do we fall, if not to warm a soul for a moment?â he wondered, carried by the wind.
The other snowflakes laughed softly.
â âWe are meant to dance, not to dream!â
But Nevé wanted more than a dance; he wanted to leave a mark, even if it melted by morning.
âïž NevĂ©âs Journey
And so he traveled.
Above sleeping forests, brushing frosted fir trees, gliding along rooftops where chimneys sang the scent of burning wood.
Every light he encountered was, for him, a promise.
One night, the wind carried him to a small window.
Behind the glass, a child was writing in a notebook.
Her cheeks rosy from the fire, she wrote:
â âI want to believe in magic again, even when itâs cold outside.â
Nevé landed softly on the window.
In his fragile glow, the child thought she saw a tiny star.
She smiled.
Her wish had found a messenger.
âïž The Last Moment
Dawn was approaching.
Nevé felt his end coming.
The cold turned to warmth, the glass into a mirror.
In this final moment, he realized:
nothing truly melts when it has touched a heart.
When the first light of day entered, the snowflake disappeared.
In its place, a tiny drop gleamed like a tear of light.
And the child whispered:
â âThank you, little snowflake.â
âïž The Legacy of the Dream
Since that morning, every winter, she continues to write.
And sometimes, when snow falls, she swears she hears a whispering voice in the wind:
â âKeep dreaming, little soul. Thatâs how stars are born.â
đ« Even the most ephemeral things can leave an eternal mark when they touch someoneâs heart. đ«
