The Dire Womb of Winter - Profetus

Echoing in the whirling dusk

Circling the shroud of this temple

The fallen snow quiet as the sky

The storm made its shelter

Where the mist hovered paths

Where she wanders, endlessly

Opening magickal pathways

Clothed in the glare of winter moons

And the endless summer nights

Her hair like floating stream

Lonely gilded rooms of autumn in her eyes

We are eternally returning

Where her dreaming steps resound

Under the grey wooden lid sealed by ever-frost

A coffin cloaked in white by the first snow

Where autumn leaves fell

Like words unspoken

Torn from the dire womb of winter