An Unchanged Fate

A scrap of snow makes a hard life harder,

The mountain gate swept at night, the moon like a spear.

Dust and sand swallow the lamp's bean-sized glow,

Yet even porridge stolen from a cold stove tastes sweet.

Every step is carved by fate,

Every sound measures only the ground ahead.

Blood seals the stone worn through by her feet,

And when she looks back, a faint glimmer has become light.