From depths yet beholden, spirits chanting beneath
a lake of ancient grief. Thunder of the ages drowns
the day, bidden by the watcher in the water.
The pale moon floods the forest, yet the drowning
chasms feel it not. The reddened snow engulfs my
tomb as the watcher robs my grave to steal my smile.
The guardian returns Death's cold embrace. Unending,
She implores him. So near, yet unattained, for
eternity fears only tomorrow.