In the land of eternal night,
I lay beneath my tarp of old,
Wrapped in my beloved reindeer pelt,
Against the winds that fiercely cold.
The bitter wind, it cuts like knives,
And chills me to the bone,
But with my woolen coat, I fight,
The cold that I have known.
As the sun descends below,
I behold the dusk’s eerie gleam,
An array of orange and red,
Against the frost, a frozen dream.
The tarp above me, held so tight,
Against the gusts that moan and sigh,
My tailored setup of old, stands the test,
Of this bitter and gloomy sky.
But as the stars come out to play,
And dance above my lonely form,
I clutch my axe, knife and tinder,
In this arctic, overnight storm.
The fire burns bright and warm,
A beacon in the dark,
The mulled wine in my hand,
A comfort, like a spark.
The reindeer pelt, my shield,
From the cold that bites and stings,
I lay here, safe and content,
While the night, it endlessly sings.
Flakes of Mind 