Erfrorene Äste

Das Eisen schlägt Funken
die Kälte erstickt,
in bleierner Trauer
die Zeit nur verdickt.

Das Holz fängt die Funken,
das Wasser gefriert,
der Tod lauert trunken,
von Grauen verziert.

Ein Wahrer und Träumer,
als Heiler gebohrn,
nur Sand in den Weiten,
der Fels längst verlorn.

Die Zeiten sind Grauen,
Der Fels nur noch Sand,
Wenn Trauer und Tod
führ’n die heilende Hand.

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