Wandering restless through the hillside on a cold
December day, my solitary journey guided only by
the pilgrims high in the sky. Fog invades the
lands blocking the last rays of the dying sun and
a veil of mist and serenity gracefully covers the
night. The shadowy trees of the forest, once
imbued with beauty and life now twisted and
eternally frozen by a shroud of snow and ice. As
the glow of the dawning sun vanishes in the
witherd sky my eyes wander up through the
whispering winds and watch the glare of the stars
dilute. Exposed to the frost of the icy winds my
bittered soul still rejoys. As the howl of the
wind enchants me more than the sweetest sounding
human voice. Freed from mens insanity I feel my
grief stricken heart still burn bracing my soul
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shelter return. Burdend with the insight of my
loneliness I continue my journey through this
night. Passed have the times when the glimmer of
hope filled my heart with gentle delight. All the
years that the currents of fortune have planted
the seeds of my grief my eyes have been fooled by
the masks of joy, my desperate hopes deceived. So
let us now gather the harvest of the past solitary
days. And bath our peace craving eyes in sin's
magnificent grace. The night shall pass and a cold
morning breeze shall obscure the traces of my
pittyful existence. For not a stone shall mark the
place where silence embraced me and guided my
cheerful soul into the charm of everlasting
solitude.