Tree, I have come to shelter and with the rain to weep
I am soaked, barefoot with mud running through.
Soft the moss, cool and cold
to soothe my heart that bleeds.
Our waxing nights of love and moons
now fallow, a field that burns.
Damned our hollow bed
of haunting, silent screams
too soon the fiery devil
too far my lover
the spring.