Ashes In The Snow Songtext
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[Story in booklet]
Swiftly as a draft of wind, moving past her without a trace,
Time, cold and unbending, leaves her standing alone once again.
Long ago, there was the sound of two children running here. Their footsteps, never straying far apart from each other’s, still echo through the woods where an old woman walks on his day.
On a still river surrounded by weeping willows, the woman rows her boat towards the open sea.
With a grave face she pulls the oars to and fro, her eyes fixed upon a nearby cliff above the waters. She traces the edge and holds her breath, reliving the chilling distance down to the bottom. Her rhythm is steady and slow as she breaks through the familiar fog. The sound of waves crashing, the lingering smell of burnt wood, and the reflection of branches on the water all remain the same as her memory, as if frozen in a spell. She inhales all she can hold and wonders if winter never ended since that cold night she stood on the cliff with him. Here lies their landscape of memories untouched by the awakening spring.
On this day the woman prepares for farewell. Heavy are his ashes, sinking in her hand. As she strains to let his remains go, she turns herself to the earth for an answer, a reminder of why she is here.
Beneath her grief she knows there is something beyond the finality of this moment. Like the spring that is born from a cruel winter, there is something here waiting to be born. Resting her hand on the boat, she lets her eyes sleep.
Peering from the thickets of the surrounding woods, a promise tree faithfully waits to welcome this day of their journey. With roots woven deeply into the earth, it is the only thing that’s flourished here where all else has stood still. In the midst of it all, it continues to grow, nurturing the vow that it was planted with as if it were its child. The tree watches the woman tenderly and sways its branches, sending a stream of wind to relieve her.
In the place between wake and sleep, there lies a bridge over the waters. The woman finds herself on one end, walking towards the figure standing in the middle. With her arms open, she feels lifted as if she was a child again.
Hours pass before she awakes in the boat by the embrace of dim sunlight. Finding the ashes still waiting in her palm, she blesses them with her love and releases them into a stream of wind that carries them over the waters. The woman travels back into a time where they prayed here together, a dreadful time where they found solace in each other’s promise.
Her eyes follow the flight of the ashes until they fade into falling snow before her-the same snow of the winter that they loved and perished here together.
Swiftly as a draft of wind, moving past her without a trace,
Time, cold and unbending, leaves her standing alone once again.
Long ago, there was the sound of two children running here. Their footsteps, never straying far apart from each other’s, still echo through the woods where an old woman walks on his day.
On a still river surrounded by weeping willows, the woman rows her boat towards the open sea.
With a grave face she pulls the oars to and fro, her eyes fixed upon a nearby cliff above the waters. She traces the edge and holds her breath, reliving the chilling distance down to the bottom. Her rhythm is steady and slow as she breaks through the familiar fog. The sound of waves crashing, the lingering smell of burnt wood, and the reflection of branches on the water all remain the same as her memory, as if frozen in a spell. She inhales all she can hold and wonders if winter never ended since that cold night she stood on the cliff with him. Here lies their landscape of memories untouched by the awakening spring.
On this day the woman prepares for farewell. Heavy are his ashes, sinking in her hand. As she strains to let his remains go, she turns herself to the earth for an answer, a reminder of why she is here.
Beneath her grief she knows there is something beyond the finality of this moment. Like the spring that is born from a cruel winter, there is something here waiting to be born. Resting her hand on the boat, she lets her eyes sleep.
Peering from the thickets of the surrounding woods, a promise tree faithfully waits to welcome this day of their journey. With roots woven deeply into the earth, it is the only thing that’s flourished here where all else has stood still. In the midst of it all, it continues to grow, nurturing the vow that it was planted with as if it were its child. The tree watches the woman tenderly and sways its branches, sending a stream of wind to relieve her.
In the place between wake and sleep, there lies a bridge over the waters. The woman finds herself on one end, walking towards the figure standing in the middle. With her arms open, she feels lifted as if she was a child again.
Hours pass before she awakes in the boat by the embrace of dim sunlight. Finding the ashes still waiting in her palm, she blesses them with her love and releases them into a stream of wind that carries them over the waters. The woman travels back into a time where they prayed here together, a dreadful time where they found solace in each other’s promise.
Her eyes follow the flight of the ashes until they fade into falling snow before her-the same snow of the winter that they loved and perished here together.
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