Frozen Side of The Sun

On the frozen side of the sun lies Svalbard. A barren, treeless stretch of land Buried beneath snow and stillness. Here, the cold doesn’t just bite; It consumes. The whirlwind air scrapes skin with surgical precision. For months each year, the sun abandons the sky. Svalbard drifts beneath a vaulted night. Darkness bleeds through permafrost, Settling in the earth’s frozen marrow. But beneath this ice-scarred wilderness, Where avalanche and ash calcify, A vault lies hidden deep in the mountain’s underbelly. It cradles the future; A womb of waiting seeds, Asleep in rows of glass and steel. Hope, suspended in time. In this tomb of preservation, Life isn’t gone. Just waiting with a promise of rebirth. And when the sun returns, Brushing marigold hues across glistening glaciers Like a kiss upon Snow-White's lips, Those seeds will stir with life. They will remember the sun. They will rise.