How long has it been now?

Perhaps thousands of years.

Perhaps many, many more.

Cold my cell, and thick its walls.

Thoughts turned to rumination.

Rumination to waking dreams.

And yet never have I come to bear

The sweet escape of sleep

My arctic tomb has kept me still

Preventing my escape.

But patience brings reward

And time I have aplenty.

With luck the years have been my friend.

With luck they’ve all forgotten.

Forgotten the old ways of old men

And how to seal old prisons.

History becomes myth.

Myth fades to obscurity.

Time may kill great reputations,

But old gods never die.

Prisoner I may be now,

But freedom is forthcoming.

The ice has been my shackles,

But at last my shackles melt.