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!