Agalloch Falling Snow

The water pours its embracing arms 'round the stone.
Decay drips from the unquiet void.
Where the ice forms. Where life ends.

The stone is by the crimson blood, swallowed.
The red tide beyond the ebon wound, contorted.
My sacrifice bids farewell in this river of memory:
a wave to end all time.

Red birds escape from my wounds,
return as falling snow,
to sweep the landscape a wind haunted.
Wings without bodies.

The snow, the bitter snowfall.
You long to die in her pale arms, crystalline
to become an ode to silence.
In the soul of a mountain of birds, fallen.

The cascading pallor - of ghostless feather.

The snow has fallen
and raised this white mountain
on which you will die
and fade away in silence.