This storm's icy blast
only seems to lash our world into submission.
To the land, it is gentle, and from us
it holds back its full force, we survive.

How long can winter spare the arrogance
that tears at the land the snow cherishes?

When comes the humbling of the myriads beguiled
at what can be ripped from the earth
and other beings, contriving and merchandising
an artifice that falls in wretched disarray
upon an earth that's been invaded by its own?