---

the whispering night

tracks in the snow

crossing the threshold

of what we all know

crimson immortal

elysian fields

stems of good fortunes

they've been reaping for years

seek words of wisdom

spurning the lore

weavers of fate

have cast on the shore

we seek lives of holiness

and finding nothing in its place

the grace of the gods

a fire gone out

on the banks of the lands

once so firmly devout

a wringing of hands

facing the dark

hollow and dead

what we know in our hearts