the whispering night
tracks in the snow
crossing the threshold
of what we all know

crimson immortal
elysian fields
stems of good fortunes
they've been reaping for years

seek words of wisdom
spurning the lore
weavers of fate
have cast on the shore

we seek lives of holiness
and finding nothing in its place

the grace of the gods
a fire gone out
on the banks of the lands
once so firmly devout

a wringing of hands
facing the dark
hollow and dead
what we know in our hearts