---

The world crowded close

Round this meagre party

The conceit of mortal life

Begins and so must end

But not tonight

In the great well of the ancient god

Guided by the light of borealis

Phantom apparitions drink

in the face of subconscious wraith

The smoke of woodfire glimmers in the umbra

an Icy fortress of blood and ages

Midnight wolves

Stalk the nights meal

The wardens shed their iron

and look to vertical depths

Crumble not at the assault of revelation

Stillness does not belong among the living

100 or more strides

100 more times

He ye courage, o my brethren