In summers past, in summer's land
Through the haze of heat and joy
Were the days of you, the era of the sun.
A fitting place determined, secured away
And so, some right to token is deserved.
But now, summer's grace has fallen
And winter's here, where I thrive.
No sun to heat the land, for we ourselves
Burn inside, our souls alight.
The purer spirit, the hotter blaze
Great fire to warm against the snows outside.
And yet, complaining of the cold, I see the windows
Opened wide, as if the skies were scorched
And if the view was marred by heat
Rather than the latent fog of dawn.
So still, within my haven, I feel distant from the
Mind, where desiring summer's graft
Against my burning heart I give it all.
Still, forced away, and cursed I grieve
To be a thousand leagues away
In mind, while we sit aside, in silence dark.
You. Yes you are beside in mind.
Yet so very distant in body
Than any length that matters.
And still, my mind is pure, is clean
I have nothing but compassion where
I know what is it is to be less
Than human for you to have.
I am above.
And those stolen glances meant much more
Than what you suggest, I know.
I can see beyond the mist, the haze.
But summer has passed, your fingertips
Cannot grasp anything, now the sun has died
Winter is my home, the moon my light,
Even if here, minds and souls cannot thrive
I will stand in steel, in snow, heels dug in.
White knight against Lucifer, my heart is strong.
Watch out, winter is here, and I'm a furnace.