As the Northern Wind Cries

In the polar night long and dark
May the wolves howl and bark
In the silence of December
May them my body dismember
Hear the ancient owl call
She tells the story of my fall
Whispers in the northern wind
As my body lay there skinned
The whitest glade was painted red
Yet my spirit wasn’t dead
Hidden runes beneath the snow
A story of the returning crow
As winter turn to spring
Again you will hear him sing
Like the sound of foxes chewing mice
The morning sun will crack the ice
And from the lake — I shall arise
For when the red snow melt
Along with the sadness I’ve felt
Leaving nothing worth to mourn
I’m out of ice reborn