Immortal silence while the raven calls
And the winter storm wrecks havoc.
The moonlight hiding under frost born clouds
And the Abyssal screams piercing through the air,
With its neart like a sonic wave
And rout through the mirk woods;
While the banshee calls.
The thrum of anger and anguish,
Just a whist in the wind of the winter storm.
©02atropa
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