The Troll Queen's Bride
But I became the bank of winter she drowned in, you see.
And I would never steal feathers or clip the wings off a bird.
We let our greatest potential go, and in that, grow.
Love is not the answer. The answer is a frozen rose.
Hope is not my delight. No, it is sacrifice.
And as the crane flies free, I am left flying kites,
looking up at the clouds, and dreaming of redemption
found at bitter beak and angel lips, and a thousand
other
impossible
things.
Wotan Rides the Wind
Sikat na Kabanata