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.
