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I tore through heaven’s gates,
With blood on my lips,
Just to reach you
And still, you sleep,
Buried deep in the drifting snow.
I descended through the pit of hell,
To find a white flame’s glow
A fire fierce enough to break
The ice around your soul.
But even yearning couldn’t thaw
The silence where you dwell.
There are no doors in you,
Just chambers locked and sealed,
Cold winds that whisper nothing,
And truths you never yield.
My soul now hangs in shadowlands,
Between the world above and below
With trembling hands, I cast a song,
The last I’ll ever throw.
I became the villain in every sacred tale,
If it meant I could drag you back
From that frostbitten veil.
Now the birds forget my name,
The gods avert their eyes
And still, you sleep in snow,
Unchanged beneath my eyes.
This was written by our contributing writer, Andreea Cristine.
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