though i know not where to start
better yet, remove this stain,
though my thoughts know only you
and my heart feels only pain

though the morning sun is dark,
and the night more lonely still,
and although this empty jar
the great oceans cannot fill,

do not count my tears this night,
or each morning when i wake
for my eyes know not to cease
till the day this love you take

though the shadows only fall,
never wither with the light,
and the thorns pull on the vine
till the sun is out of sight

never look upon these eyes
without knowing how to cure
such tormented souls, of you
nonetheless, i shall endure

till this lonely spirit seeks
to find peace in alien lands
and forget such dreadful cries
that pray beg from empty hands

for someday, as willows fade,
this poor longing shall find breath
and the years may come with age,
hand in hand with only death

and yet death is sweeter still,
than the desperate cries of night
but if they should last thus long,
surely hasten death’s delight

but i pray this soul to take
such lamenting thoughts of you
far away from memory’s aid
long before life fades its hue

for what battles conquer now
and what battles conquered then,
time shall come it has to end
and from sleep, i’ll breathe again.

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