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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.