The water pours its embracing arms 'round the stone.
Decay drips from the unquiet void.
Where the ice forms,
Where life ends.
The stone is by the crimson blood, swallowed.
The red tide beyond the ebon wound, contorted.
My sacrifice bids farewell in this river of memory,
A wave to end all time.
Red birds escape from my wounds,
And return as falling snow,
to sweep the landscape a wind haunted.
Wings without bodies.
The snow, the bitter snowfall.
You long to die in her pale arms, crystalline,
To become an ode to silence.
In the soul of a mountain of birds, fallen.
The cascading pallor,
of ghostless feather.
The snow has fallen,
And raised this white mountain,
On which you will die,
And fade away in silence.