We descend into a world of contrast-
The fullest white of Winter's rage
And darkest black of a winter's night.
These months, I know only cold.
These months, I know only how to suffer.
We descend into a world of fright
And come to know our mortality,
For death is written upon every ice pellet
And flake of snow that falls from the sky.
These months I only know cold . . .
We descend into a world of beauty.
It offers a test and demands one to stand,
For if we can stand with the unforgiving wilderness,
We prove ourselves worthy of its fruits.
So here I am:
I stand silent before the Great Mountain Wind!