House of the Undying

Big blue sky bright as a robin's egg,

So frigid and unrelenting,

Not even the sun gives warmth.

Gusts of sharply cutting wind,

It stings ears and numbs fingers,

Gray lips and red noses.

Rolling hills covered in pines

And blanketed in thick snow

Under the heartless sun.

Snow so blinding white,

Eyes squint and skin burns

In these harsh elements.

Pines with tall rusty trunks,

Boughs high above drooping,

Green needles under white dust.

Icy harbor below,

Empty and impassable,

Lonely docks of frosty wood.

Majestic mountains beyond,

Jagged slopes of rock and snow,

Scraping the heavens and sun.

One hill higher than the others,

Slopes steep and crest of cliffs,

Wearing a crown of evergreen.

Tall stone walls in the evergreen crown,

Ornately vaulted Gothic windows,

Needle-topped towers stand silently.

A keep of solitude and desolation,

Dark and void of warmth of life,

Perched amid frozen splendor.