How cold indeed north winds have been,
Fading dying wishes into yesterday.
To never more be seen,
Never more be heard, be felt.
By a lover's sweet touch,
Or a friend's warm hand.
Dreams dead at last,
In Hades' own tender valley.
Finally put to rest by nothing more than air.
Restless, winding voices,
Reverberating in the cold wind,
With the corpses of the year before,
The now cold masses of matter,
Malevolently striking the life before them.
Mad howling wind,
Driving life from its path,
Parting love,
Handing death.