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

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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.