Pace your way Through the tracks of snow, For I am well ahead of you Fallen as the debris. I have peeled my eyes To the sunrise, Though obscured behind the clouds Like your face behind the shroud Where tears make the frozen rain Beneath a sheet of pain. Whatever is ahead In the motions, we tread On iron wings. I am on a carriage built from carrion, Bones and sinew. I am built on the rust of an ancient man While you continue to weep where you stand. Would you cry for good On the pathway for extended miles, Burying the sun for loathsome whiles? Your beauty is a certificate To a celebration of misery. I keep the wings frozen of you, So that your stilled pacing Can never be chasing The wilderness that grows from your hair, Nor the flame that for your eyes, you did stare. You did know The path to go, Yet you will continue to weep for good Shrouded beneath the bleak hood. Of clouds that rain only ashes, Of streams that form only clashes Against the nestled white vapor of few million breaths.