Not watered silks but the whetstone.
Not the wake behind but the tide before.
Not rest but resistance. The climb, the slope
Steep and rocky under bloodied feet, and
An avalanche of cold wind onrushing -
Howling hell, the rage of chaos untamed.
Not watered silks but the whetstone.
Not the wake behind but the tide before.
Not rest but resistance. The climb, the slope
Steep and rocky under bloodied feet, and
An avalanche of cold wind onrushing -
Howling hell, the rage of chaos untamed.
