I feel dead,
Like a tree without leaves
And a hollowed core
Withered by the dark frost of winter.
Is this what I am;
Condemned to stand alone
While the seasons of man’s life
Drift away, like dead leaves on the voice of the wind.
Everywhere I see death,
Brought on by winter’s frozen claws.
Is this how it will be;
Living things trapped beneath the steel hand of death?
I feel death;
And I hear the decay of life
The silent, cold voice of winter.