The Blizzard (Part Two)

It started as a whisper in the wind.

The siren’s song that marked my death,

began as a whisper in the wind.

Icy shards gilded with silver as sharp as a serpent’s tongue;

by the time it reached crescendo, it was all but too late to run.

I set up camp to brave the chill,

Thinking it would pass.

I faced the storm with force of will,

but shattered like fragile glass.

First came the fall and I can’t recall,

exactly what happened then.

A rumble, a roar, then the sun was no more.

I made peace with the Lord again.