The wind whirls on the inside,

A frozen white place.

Howling storms and raging gods,

Battling face to face.

 

Snow falls softly to the ground,

The branches glitter with ice.

Big monsters of frightening names,

I hope it does not come to this today.

 

The snow gets picked up,

Swirling into hurricanes.

A place of magic,

Outside my window panes.

 

The darkness is consuming,

Yet stars glitter outside.

The cries so loud,

Yet whispers inside.

 

Final days of joy,

Clouds are coming.

But to us, the Loyal,

We are. Never. Afraid.

 

Death comes at a raging storm,

We pay the price dearly.

Yet to all wise men alike,

It is still not our final fight.

 

We live forever,

Inside of our legacies.

Continued on through stories,

Of numerous destinies.

 

Sadness cries all around,

Of mourning wails and voices.

Following us through the dark,

Reminding us of who we are.

 

But spring is soon coming,

And with it the New Queen.

She will lead you where we can not,

And give shoulders for you to lean.

 

So this is it.

Our time has run out.

Goodbye sweet, innocent world.

Your times is. Now.