Biting Cold. . .

Lost and cold I walk alone down icy paths of frozen snow…

The frigid air does pierce me, and so I feel its touch.
The bitter wind consumes my warmth until it is too much.
Tiny bits of crystal block the sun and claim the night.
Frozen to the world…
Dreaming of the light…

Chilling is the empire where warmth is sin and treason.
Wandering this tundra, silence takes the place of reason.
On glacial floes we drift the seas, and watch as They do what we please
… Deep beneath the frozen waves of times immortal season…

© Cetty Gammage

Ice Land by Stefan Hefele

 

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