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.