Could I remount the river of my years
To the first fountain of our smiles and tears
I would not trace again its streams of hours
Between its outworn banks of withered flowers.

I - am the hour of darkness
I - am the heart of the frozen
I - am the bringer of coldness
I - am the wound of the chosen.

Where I would walk in spirit and behold
Our elements resolved to things untold
And fathom hidden wonders and explore
The essence of great bosoms now no more.

What is death - a quiet of the heart
The whole of that - of which we are a part
For life is but a vision - what I see
For all which lives - alone is life to me.

Could I remount the river of my years
To the first fountain of our smiles and tears
Where I would walk in spirit and behold
Our elements resolved to things untold.

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