How Long?

How long hast the gleaming sun been out of reach?
These frost bars of Satan, left my tongue dry for speech!
Shall I perish as the lucky runners mark escape?
So caped, hidden from sight by sneaky race
The hilts so near and if I were to charge all eyes would peer
May I grasp the handle? May I seer from this ill bearded
Time and climb from this prison?
Slither as snakes, tip toe and leave not a mark in the snow
If it is the night that needs my action
Or the iron fist that so swiftly gifts my strike
Than tonight, the bask of light shall be mine