Few things scald as the terror of ice
As it falls from the sky
To remake the world in its image
And all who stand in its shadow
Fall into oblivion
And their ghosts howl into the wind.
And so the freezing rain falls,
Entombing all in its crystalline shroud,
And through the frozen tears of winter's rage
We witness this world's burial.
Should we be able to hide from this murderous ice-plague,
What will we behold when the sun no longer cowers?
(Come out, you coward!
Your world is suffering!
Get thee out from behind the clouds!
You are needed now more than ever.)
-A crystalline world;
-The beauty of the storm.
-A frightful ghost,
Forsaking all that's warm.
Words cannot spell the lust for blood this season enjoys,
For those who hold with fire have not seen how ice destroys.
And ice does destroy.
Where are my words now?
This isn't the world I knew.
All who aren't suffering are ghosts.
Even the trees groan;
Their burdens unbearable.
Behold, the sun has shown itself,
And I can see -
Only ice has made itself the image of this world.