Cold and shallow shadows
blowing across the snow
in every hope of finding
the world they used to know,
they grab us as we pass them
and draw us toward the dark,
begging for us to save them
from the misery they hold.

They've stolen many a soul,
now trapped within the trees.
The forest's labored breathing
the only proof of the deceased.
The icicles that rattle
as mediums for their songs
of woe and fearsome hatred
doomed to never cease.

When you were taken by them,
disappearing like the rest,
I vowed that I would find you
and free you from their nest.
Were it the frozen wasteland
or the jaws of death itself,
I'd fear not its making
and traverse it nonetheless.

I knew I'd never find you
but I searched each day and night
until the days stopped rising
as the trees swallowed the light.
And in this hinterland hiding
the love to which I'm bound,
I came to accept my passing
as proof of what I found.

Then in the forest shadows
I saw the massive tree
with roots and vines like chains
to hold down what was once free.
A withered, massive birdcage.
An angel nestled inside.
The light dimly glowing
from where the fallen bird did hide.

The angel glanced out coldly
with pitch-black eyes and hair.
Surrounded by death and beauty
was this maiden so fair.
A flower so fragile
within this world of pain.
The captive of the forest,
cast out by pride and shame.

She ne'er woke from her trance,
trapped in this desolate place,
tortured like all the others
within the forest maze.
The only light descending
upon the sullied ground.
The next queen of the forest
and to its cycle bound.