When life has ceased,when the termination of the traditional spirit and catastrophic barbaric desolations surrounds the core of my linear cold menace,feeling the power and reflection of the inner winterwich is always present in this cosmic landscapes of sorrow.
Are the winds and whispers ashes of an ancient memory which tries to release the thousand pictures of agony?(that lies dortman in the rustand and frost of my cosmos within...) Shattered and deceased all the once bright possessions, that lead this strangeland are now just a feeble flame in my soul...