Howling winds of frozen fury
grace the landscapes, cold and dark.
And here upon these plains of winter,
I stand to face the bitter north.

I walk amongst the frozen trees,
surrounded by the calm and death.
And under boughs and pines of white,

As the sun lays rest the day,
twilight paints the snowy blight.
Majestic stars and moon ascending
into the everlasting night.

And here I stand, in awe and wonder,
to face ancestral winter's coming.
No fire burns, no light can shine,
for here cold freezes even time.