We all have our own balrogs to slay, to emerge stronger than before.

the silence of the wind between the peaks

like a thick cocoon envelops my senses

digging into my body with claws

drinking my blood like an upir

a song engraved on my soul

however my mouth are closed

I am silent as snow fluff

like an ice-covered mountain

Caradhras grew up in me

where I look – frozen stalactites

where I look – the landscape of death