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Winter's Gate (part 3)

Part 3: At the Gates of Winter

Still I bear the flowers of pain.
Still I bear the flowers,
the flowers of solitude.

And on the mountain’s side
grim-looking gate lies.
Staring towards the north,
waiting in solitude.

Barring the way inside
the giant doors of stone.
Not built for mortal men,
not made for us to pass.

Vile trick of ornery Gods?
Rewards and riches right
here within our reach,
not within our grasp!

I walk with my head down,
wind blows right through my waning heart.
Weightless like a bird in my arms
she looks into the bottom of my soul.

Grave tidings from the northside,
grave is the tone of this night.
Weightsome the dark around us,
the weight of time upon us.

No one will sing tonight,
no one will leave the pyre.
Dreaming of golden wolf,
dreading the winter’s might.

Vile trick of ornery Gods?
Rewards and riches right
here within our reach,
not within our grasp.

Not within our grasp!

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