Frozen sails through mountain ice,
Ice becomes like rugged blades.
Blades so cold as dangerous vice,
A vice that cannot be trade.
To trade between of life and death,
Death is a cup of a watery soul.
For the soul is produce of breath,
Breath can be reap from such goal.
Yet the goal is beyond such beauty,
Beauty that melts beneath the sun.
A wild, florid nature to see,
See the wonder or leave it none.
None the hue of extravagant colors,
Colors that define the scene.
A scene of sea that strictly stirs
Into it that stirs a field of green.
Art: Tundra by artbytheo