Winter wizards dancing around my forthcoming saliva dripping tongue,
Desire for the frozen, dead landscape.
Like dreams that end and never start and like skies that are nothing and all at once...it dances around me forever and ever and the night is forever.
Yet, it ends when I look back upon it.
Yet, it ends when I look forward to it again.
The snow of melody falls and crashes.
The snow of love it burns and ashes.
The snow of life it lies and snatches.
The snow of faith it tries and thrashes.
Behold, the gate, in the northern light.
Behold, the wall, made of floating ice.
Behold, the shoes, covered in ice.
Behold, the pipe, wet with Christ.
Within I welcome crazy light,
Without I welcome sensible night.
Dancing and dancing, donning the cap of trees without leaves and horns from the graves before the seas.
Spinning the sun into suicide for a season.
Spinning the night into seeming forever season.
Spinning the story for the tale-born season.
Spinning the ice for this dead-earth season.
Ritual reborn, I call, into the night. (With thoughts, alone. No sprites of calling with my voice!)
Avast, and awaken in this frozen hill.
I await the spring, and until then....all is well in the endless white.
The endless white.
The endless white.