The heart’s caged in an ice age of emotional dilemma… Ironically, the steps have traced back to the land they had once fled away from. Or did they ever…?
Born to the weather of winter, it knew nothing other than the coldness that was home to the heart. But as seasons changed it experienced and endured more, the realization seeps in that nature does not destine all to undergo the same excruciating pain. The hope that mindlessly bloomed in the heart for years for in its innocence it was ignorant to nature’s unfairness, is now fading as the agony unfolds… Now the ache grows knowing pain to picks who it chooses to inflict more upon and how.
Glancing back at its beginnings, the heart feels betrayed. The young flower knew nothing but to bloom, and the willpower to keep going despite every scar left behind, blossoming into the belief that it could fight fate. Perhaps it was all just in the rush of youth, waging a war seemed plausible. But it hits harder after years now that maybe it was predestined to be crumbled under the weight of chilling winds. The winds it was winding its way away from…
The eyes trace around to wonder where did it go wrong, why was it chosen to sprout in a season none could dare to survive through… Yet it had no choice but to and to silently withstand the harshness of the weather, for it never had a better home. So it carved an igloo of the ice that surrounded it, but now the very place suffocates… As the light drains from its core, it wonders whether wilting is all it was destined for… And if so then what reason is there to even go on?
The belief that it is alone sinks harder into the heart, knowing no two are born with the same predestination engraved in their fate. And so the predisposition that its end seems near takes over. And the heart ruptures more, with each blow it encounters. The words that pierce through when others act oblivious to its suffering, muttering supposed words of comfort that fail to shield against anything. The blanket of their love seems too thin to counter the numbing frostbite, and the fire of hope they were to fuel turns to ashes.
With everything left in itself, the heart still promises to hold on even if, in the end, only snowfall buries it in the pain it’s fighting against. It holds on to that one last string of hope. The one that it ties to neither the belief that it’s not alone, nor to the fact that all can face pain and get up again. After years of affliction, neither of those comfort the heart anymore. It ties that last string to the belief it has in itself, the one that tells it maybe there are no brighter tomorrows ever… But ones fated to face the storm maybe never see the light that brightens the day.
Perhaps the light they are to meet is the one that grows within them, running through their veins like courage. The courage that drives their ambitions to trudge through knee-deep snow, of time, pain, pressure… and the growing vulnerability to stumble… and fall… And even while the heart may long for it, maybe spring never has to come their way for them to blossom, for they are winter flowers, born to the cold, to breed there and that’s how life goes on…
Some flames shine the brightest right before they flicker to fade to nothingness… Maybe the light sought for is one that buds in the soul… Maybe that is how it too shall shine, but for that… it will have to hold on till then… even if that is the end…
This analytical piece is a subjective interpretation of the actual work (bound to have a one-dimensional perspective) and claims to reflect nothing directly or indirectly mentioned in the original lyrics.
