The mountains gleam in a cold blanket,
Sharp spires reaching to the sun's casket.
The lake sleeps in a shimmering mirror,
Blinding consciousness in its splendor.
Rugged world, deceiving in the palm,
Brings a rebellious white light to the calm.
A hint of freshness, truth in the breeze,
Makes night visions clear with ease.
Transitions of countless thoughts and musings,
Figures of dreams, desired steps and choosings,
Boiling and gloomy waters all around,
To say it all, there's not enough sound.
A frosty beam brings order in the morning,
Aligning the tangles of urgent adorning.
The past is frozen in ice and locked away,
Left unfinished, to never sway.
Let the spire and castle stay in dreams,
We'll rebuild them, it seems.
Now under the crunch and squeak of iron shoes,
We'll tear apart the familiar hues.
Let the mountain stay behind,
Let the steep descent rewind.
But we'll follow our dreams to the valley below,
Where the forgotten legends still glow.
