We are old friends,
This void and I.
Our paths would cross
From time to time.
Pupils both of the abyss.
Kicking rocks into the chasm,
Skimming stones across the mist.
Like all old friends we parted
Started ways that are our own,
Though we pick the path we tread
We do not own the road.
You took the turn to summer,
I chose the way of snow.

Those who walk in winter know
Warmth lives within the cold.