About This Video
Another poem.Written from the perspective of Eudo the Wanderer, but you don't really need to know that.I huddle in the frozen hillsThe bold expanse of white which liesAnd touches me like darkness to the skinColdThe flakes which fall from empty skiesAnd drift like men who never riseExcept to utter fading words ofMemoryAnd Time Immortal carries onWith little care for those who longTo see the horrors of the pastUndoneI hear the silence of the snowI feel the rock of frozen landI sense the pain of empty soulUnchangingAnd yet in all these thoughts I knowImpermanence of winters snowFor surely Time will show us yetThe WayBut all I see is dead and goneOh faintest glimmers of The WayHold firm, I beg, be here, be strongAnd stay here while I waitAnother day
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