This godless


    place bears


    the scars


    of old


    annihilations,


    as though


    the world


    manifested


    the ancient silence


    of a faithless heart.


    I dream now of the shadow


    and the mist,


    the gentle genocides of


    an icy season,


    and the ash


    of the old world falling


    from the sky.


    Snow blankets the earth


    in all directions:


    blinding white


    crystal


    nightmares


    of cold,


    burying the red


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.of countless wars, burying


    the grey of


    the burned


    and the forgotten.


    I remember it still,


    the last howl


    of the moon-swallowing wolf,


    when the gods descended


    and the serpent rose


    from the ocean’s


    depths,


    and the half-faced one


    dreamed no more of death.


    I remember it still,


    the god-bridge shattering ,


    bleeding colours


    across the night sky.


    We''ll wait here,


    you and I,


    forgetting the clamour of distant


    steel, forgetting the screams


    of immortals brought low


    beyond the totality


    of us,


    when they fell


    in fire


    and venom


    and blood.


    We''ll wait here,


    you and I,


    till the snows are past,


    living on the morning dew,


    and the promise


    that winter will end.