No solace comes from solid walls,
No warmth from wooden floors
I feel no freedom from closing doors,
Nor life in well lit halls.
Great tumult comes from twisting trees
And sun makes shimmering snow.
No fences block my way to go,
And branches bear no broken leaves.
What life I leave with lives behind,
I'll miss in the land of weightless souls
They'll feel my warmth in flame-less coals,
And my loss will leave their hearts defined.
With my running brothers, I go,
And take no view behind my shoulder,
Yet, I'll watch them as they all grow older,
And await them with my joy in tow.