A Dash of Winter Solace

What is it in a dream?
That so many heros die for.
What is it you call malice?
That so many dreams are dashed for.

Tracing the steps
on the snow clad grounds.
What is it you call imprints,
that would soon be troden by time.

The wind mock at my solace.
The chill tease my lonesome shadow.
Looking at the fading light,
what is it you call a dream?