Waiting for colors to brighten 
To light the way through the mist 
Frost-bitten to the marrow 
Down a serpentine road

Along the river of ice 
Weaving over this year,  
The roadside is a scrapyard 
Lined with old friends 

I take on the dead weight 
Of their year-long scream
With the agony I haul 
Low and sputtering along

Toward the phantom lights
Of a distant memory,
Toward the silver and gold 
Glowing centuries ago