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As those around me die, I hold on to the last of my glory.
As the summer Gods dance to the songs of Autumn.
I look on with joy at the sacred beauty of it all.
For I will not be awoken by the songs of Spring.
It is not the sleep of Winter to which I go this time.
As I look up to the sky, the moon shines brighter than ever before.
And before me a crystal kingdom glows.
Yet the night is darker than I have known.
Shadowed by the raven's wings.
She is coming for me.
In my final hour.
I look on with joy and sorrow.
At the sacred beauty.
Of my final winter.

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