I was born son to glaciers of ice,
Brother to the west wind,
Singing a song of memory and change.
And as I walk the halls of snow, the rooms of steel,
I hold fast to the shadows that cloak the ruin,
And never chase the silence from the daylight,
And shake the floor of the world
In my lonely tantrums.
I am made the merchant of emptiness,
My currency the dew at the night’s edge.
Given dominion over the empty spaces
And taught that to rule is always sweet,
no matter the kingdom,
I haunt the concrete canyons.
In dreams I chase the inviting glow,
The glittering crowds and shimmering clouds
That tease the promise of redemption
And bring the pain of waking a dreamer with empty hands.
I am the wanderer of frigid spaces,
Drawn to seek dawn in distant skies, worn robes hanging,
Never, never standing before Heaven,
Singing of flowers and thorns even through my tears,
King of the outer wilds,
East of the sun where the dreams fall dark.