I dream of a plain of ice
I feel the precence of “ice”
I hear a voice… an echoing voice…
Resounding into the distance
Just like thunder
I hear a voice
Resounding into the distance… Just like thunder…
Brushing against my hand
Like a delicate flower
On that plain of ice, I die
I hear a voice
An echoing voice
Crushing… Engulfing…
Falling into my hand
Just like thunder
I hear a voice
Now I decide to search
To find it, and move onward
Even if I die on this plain of ice.