Winter Without End

A full year it has been,
Four whole seasons of cold.
Soon, the End shall begin
As it was once foretold.
A year of no crops grown
Yields harvest of famine.
The hardest days we've known
Bereave us of our kin.

Folds are no longer stocked,
The rivers freeze solid,
As such it is no shock
That war now seems valid.
Neighbors unsheathe their blades;
By now it cannot stop.
Many shall join the Shades
As all fight for the top.

We must kill to survive;
There are few resources.
No foe is left alive,
Nor even his horses.
The Sun cannot bring day.
For sustenance we strive
Through the brothers we slay.
Only instincts revive.

Our forefathers survived, and so time shall mend.
We shall persevere this winter without end.



Justin Douglas Blackford