Winter Always Returns
Cold, frozen landscape, a throne of horror widening, image through the soul, weakening hope. Life is a fire that won’t burn forever. It freezes, it fades. Hope is the curse of the individual. It dies with him. Fear is the individual’s lust for life. Paralyzing, it kills. Nature is a mother who eats her own young, Without care. Old, battered landscape, a tinge of memory fading. Soul and body falls to the ground. Remember the seasons of temperate grace? Stood I then amongst the falling rain. Death hides not in the summer’s warm winds, But a February breeze can kill. Winter is a beast that tortures the strong, And kills the weak. Cold are the devils that walk this dark time, They, who bite and sting. Snow is the blanket of a world at rest. It smothers, it chills. Winter is the beast that renews the land, And kills the weak. I am lost, and have become weak.
Submitted by Finntroll — Jun 22, 2026
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Into the Abode of Wolves we are drawn, we, who live so fiercely. We, whose passions burn so brilliantly, howl our rage into the endless sky and consume this moment entirely. Into the Abode of Wolves we are drawn, we, who know no boundaries between our feet and this Earth. We, who once were the final force of balance on this land can yet instill fear of those ancient times in the hearts of the weak. The Reign of a Million Years collapsed all too quickly, as a new fearful beast ended our grand empire. But when he falls and his proud monuments are reclaimed by the Earth, the abode of man will return to that of the wolves. Into the Abode of Wolves we are drawn, we, who hold no sympathy for the gentle grazers of this world. And in a furious blaze, we’ll create the paths your pathetic kind always will fear to tread!
Submitted by Finntroll — Jun 22, 2026