In the frozen wastes of the South, Where the sun doth not shine, Where the beams and rays are as scarce, as life in the frigid 'scape. The flowers do wilt, ice and frost on their petals, ne'er to see the light of day, forever condemned. There trudge not a soul, in this heartless terra. For all that once was, alas ne'er to be again. Eternal darkness seems to stretch, across this ominous soil, No sound or echo ever heard, yet sombre music plays. And the giant rock looms, White as an angel's wings Standing stark across the lightless sky, As if a sign, a sign of events to come, A shift is felt, as if the land starts to twist, the melancholy tune changes, and a single note is struck. The white stone, it shudders, it lets out a piercing shout, as if a thousand souls were, clawing and screaming, to be let out. A crack runs down the middle, the dark line, standing out, as a pool in the desert, waiting to be drunk. The rock finally split, O 'n what a sight it was! Light touched the hungry land, Like a mother does her child. The flowers did blossom, And the ice did melt. The frosty peaks, of the craggy mountains, They seemed to rise, in happiness or wonder, or both, we shan't know. However, know this, The sky did glow and, the grass did grow, but the souls alas, stay, they could not. They did depart, to a far kingdom, Where all that glittered was gold, 'cept two, they did stay behind, Eternally, in this world.
