The Boreal Night

pine, spruce, larch - be my witness as i lead this pack of wolves across the taiga of existentialism; i am the biome of conflicting identities; my winters are harsh, my summers, mild: i am the earth - i am its plains, its forests, its rivers, on which we graze, hunt, and drink; i am the oldest of the conifers, the fir of might and age, i am the sad, forgotten spirit, the looming apparition, the boreal winds, the storms of ice, the murky sea, the hoarfrost in the foliage of pines - i am the spectre over moors at night, wailing the lost love, and when i dream, i dream polewards, and in saudade: boreal night, lull me to sleep - i can hear the ambience of the Östersjö waves.