Death comes slowly
To those who resist
Peace in the end
To the ones who persist
In winters slumber
Chaos at the helm
Her cold pale hand
Touches our realm
We mourn our losses
And say goodbye
Time for new life
The spark in ones eye
Violent ends
To the antiquated will come
Warrior weapons we clutch
Until all deeds are done
Riding the storm
Our journey begins
But not before
The reaper grins
Pestilence, war
Famine and death
Hoofs pounding and drumming
With every breath
The dark ladys’ solider
Hunts us down
To help bury the dead
In sacred ground
When the remains of what were
Have all been scattered
When we no longer feel
Bloody and battered
We are free for a moment
In winters long embrace
To nurture our souls
After what we have faced
New discovery
Is now on our course
Live it well
These gifts from the source