Cold winds can appear to shatter the heavens,
As if they were black ice; glinting with starlight.
When these nights are long and darkness rules all time,
All dimensions fold back and become singular.

When the nights are long
It's as if Warmth's forgotten us,
And Darkness lives - surrounding the world . . .
And the only fire is the cosmos above,
As it weeps in tears of distant light.
When our treasured sunlight is far away,
Hope seems to have died
With our once temperate world.

Cold nights can appear to freeze time itself,
And raze the land in endless hatred.
The living must rise - withstanding the death of hope,
And burn defiantly as fire before endless ice.

So rise into this coldest, darkest night
And withstand the death of this world

In early twilight hours
When the winter horizon glows in white
It seems as if the world is truly grande,
And the mountains echo across the sky.

Starlight ripples in the last moments of its long voyage.
Bent by unknowable tides, the night sparkles,
And a tiny world raises a powerful voice
To sing with its universe.

Wind, stars and the galaxies beyond,
Give of yourselves,
And pour down your light
Upon these wintering lands!

The chorus surrounds - deafens.
From the farthest reaches of space
To the deepest depths of time
All becomes crystallized from the frozen land to shimmering stars,
As the heavens and Earth sing together.

Then come clouds.
All becomes dark,
All becomes silent.

Winter:

A world of crystal,
A world of white,
And frozen winds
Under endless night.

Winds rise;
Gray skies blacken.
The world becomes
One Lonely footstep.

The depths of time's raging ocean,
The face of cosmic indifference,
The persistance of life's greatest agony;
All are manifest in these freezing days.

The failing sun;
Out of reach.
Strength must be found
To have a future.

The world contorts, breathing passionately-
Coldly - seconds become epochs.
Time seizes into darkness
Until the explosion of white hurries the warm of blood.

The cold winds
- Dancing -
As if the world
Has descended into a reverie of hate
For the life it nurtures.

This season, fierce in its passion,
Hiding behind the gentle fall of snow
And lifeless shades of gray,
Roars with fury unknown by the evil in the minds of men

In darkness, the fear holds.
In the quiet, it seems as if fierce ghosts
Eye living flesh with cold malevolence.

The cold march of time is deception.
Epochs die, but their ghosts still remain.

So it is with those who knew these mountains,
Long before men knew the world.

They knew every wind within their souls,
Long before men first spoke the words for theirs.

In the darkness, the fear holds.
In the quiet, the fear holds,
As if the forest still belongs to them;
As if the mountains still glow
With the shine of their eyes.

Their stories still hold in these times of men,
And the fears they gave know not an end;
Their presence still known in the hearts of men.

The night reminds those who never knew
This fear of who ruled these mountains so long ago.
Darkness brings a terrifying fantasy in the minds of men.
They startle, as if being rushed by dark forms
With eyes afire is immanent.

From oceans rise lands;
Heaving themselves from a searing abyss.

Upon currents deeper than the sea
These lands ride in violence.
Mountains rise where they meet,
And storms carry them back to the deep.

In one epoch, long ago,
A great land blocked the sea
And Ice descended
Upon a temperate world.

Oh, how the ice must have shown;
Bright as the sun in a deep blue sky
Until the angry Earth, beneath its weight,
With fire, rent itself asunder.

Oh, how the ice must have shown . . .

The ceaseless march of time
Ensures the ice will return.
Worlds will die as sure as Autumn's leaves fall.
Although the night sky sparkles with a thousand lights,
Ice shall be the final arbiter of the Universe

As waves crash into the rocks,
So does the wind upon the Earth.
As the oceans are tossed by tides,
Sun and Earth move the air.
Angry it falls upon the land,
To bend and break the proudest trees;
The strongest life set to drown,
Under an ocean of angry wind!

Winds come down;
Wash away death.
This Earth lives like a beast,
From under our feet
To far in the sky.

She is a savage mother;
Giving death to all she leaves behind-
Like a beast.

A rock once high upon the mountain has fallen.
It stands in the valley now as a tombstone, pre-laid.

Even the mountain is not eternal,
But I with my limited years stand with it,
For it is indeed eternal, by my time.
And so we stand together for those few beautiful moments,
In our little corner of Forever.

Storms of Winter leave an aftermath of silence.

When one can hear only the breathing of the land,
The mountain stands above all
-also silent-
Demanding nothing to be said.

Voices are lost in the wind - never to reach my tired ears.
Not one demand stifles this season when she wants quiet!

Thoughts are lost in the wind - never to reach my tired mind.
Not one idea can brighten this season when she wants darkness!

Let the snow fall!
I crave its silence!

Voices are lost forever to the wind; never to reach my tired ears again!

Never.