The harsh chill of winter
coupled with despair
the cease of sunlight hours
daylight crippled there
the bleakness of the grey sky
casts away the warmth
the bare limbs of the mighty trees
sway with the desolate wind

The stricken cries of the afterglow
flow free with the coming of winter
whereas the sun once beamed upon the land
the chill sends a nocturnal shiver
down the spine of the centuries dead
debauchery and decadence reign
where we the damned call out to find
the omnipresence of oppressors slain

The acrid stench
of seasons spent
attempting to retrieve
lost gold.
But through the gales
that they past traits
will leave nothing but
their broken skulls.

The tingling sense of the cold touch
sends ethereal tendrils (surging) into my heart
As the centuries forgotten creep towards their path
Light disappears for the dawn of an eternal night
The chill of the void enters
from below as befits the weak
the snow lies dead in its expanse across the land
hoping that soon the sun will dawn again...