High and higher the trail to go,
I descry through the dancing snow,
like dust to decade it comes to rest,
a closing page in pure white's dressed.
Through secret copse cross arcane court,
'neath pall of pale and looming fort,
from home far and further still,
a sailing star rests 'pon a hill.
The weight of winters with each step grown,
see spying specters of folk long-gone,
at last a look 'pon a summit bright,
my breath be took', lo! 'lumined sight.