E’erlasting Winter in Heaven subsides,
When Fated birds a Chapter newly sing.
A tune of Beauty which rare Hope provides,
and might from Cloth of Time a Springtime wring.
A Change of Seasons as a holy Task,
To a weary Prince of Paths entrusted was.
That He in fueling Sunlight soon would bask,
For Wings would grow to spare Him from the bus.
This path to secret Destiny of these,
Two different separate once-united Friends.
My mother, ever yearning for home’s peace,
From where the Wondrous Other’s late path bends.
I’ll fly to You, Fate’s Gift, Nymph of the West,
So that my gift, Fate’s blessèd mind, can rest.