Frostbite

So high up in the mountains,
A field full of white void
Burning our bones from the insides.
Coming down from Heaven
Can be harder than reaching it.

Flesh that goes out,
Cold that no longer freezes.
Spirits from the caves
Devouring on unworthy warriors.

You tried escaping the pines
But their bites extinguished your fire.
Avalanches of remorse appeared
When you tried to leave the mountains,
Dragging you into their pleading.

With the wine of the hopeless
And with the bread of the fallen,
You shall be reborn
Into the God of the Mountains.
The despair of your fall immortalized into the snow,
Into the sticks and stones of grueling frostbite,
Where deer will cry your name
Awaiting the end of the winter.

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