Last Day In the Woods

So cold is light,
So warm the dark.
Old year, dark woods -
Their deadly mark.
In here life passes by
- and thus
There was no us,
There'll be no us.

The wintry shadows,
Craze of night.
Our time, most splendid
Feast of might,
Was like a dream,
Brought by the hands
Of heathen lore -
Among our lands.

The year flows into
Far unknown.
Into the death
We're being thrown.
The misty tombs
We'll visit straight.
Don't be afraid...
Don't be afraid...

May 21st, 2002