And I raised my hands up high
and pleaded to the northern star
to guide the rain and let it fall unto me

But the northern star seemed so
cold and white, congealed and hopeless
unable to share its incandescence

So I called on to the forests and
cried to the wolves to tear down my very
essence and put an end to my existence

But the souls of the  forests became deaf and
dreary, unable to obstruct the great
season of the celebrated hibernation

So I came to you and begged to bring out
your heat and offer me completeness so
I can flow and be whole again

And like  bleak winds, cold and cutting
you looked pass through me leaving my skin
eerie chills of desertion and resentment

Tears became strips of sleets
unable to pour like a stream on a long
winter flowing only after a heavy rainfall