I walked where no footprints remain, On silver that sings without sound. The frost is a mirror, a name That melts as I follow it down. The sky is a pale-breathing dome, No star to define where I go. But still I step over the stone, Drawn on by the river below. And every frozen vein I cross Remembers warmth, remembers loss... Frostvein, carry me far from the flame, Past all the voices that whispered my name. Quiet and cold, but faithful and clear— You hold the path when none else appear. No throne awaits, no banner unfurled, But step by step, I leave the world. The silence is louder than grief, It echoes through marrow and bone. Yet somewhere beneath every leaf Are roots that remember their own. No burden I carry is mine, Just fragments of stories I’ve known. The river forgets them in time, And carves out a truth of its own. A blade of stillness cuts through me, Colder than death, but wild and free... Frostvein, carry me far from the flame, Past all the voices that whispered my name. Quiet and cold, but faithful and clear— You hold the path when none else appear. No throne awaits, no banner unfurled, But step by step, I leave the world. I do not walk to be seen. I do not speak to be heard. I follow the song in the stream— A language too patient for words. Frostvein, carry me deep into light, Past every shadow that sang of the night. Frozen, but never lifeless or blind— You drew the map I could never find. Frostvein, carry me deep into light, Past every shadow that sang of the night. Frozen, but never lifeless or blind— You drew the map I could never find. No end remains, no need to arrive— But still I breathe, and still I strive.
