There is only aforementioned
For us the inner interventions

There is all that words can gather
If so then what say all we after

There is void dark intermittent
Error spent for our repentance

There is heretofore a whisper
Not as brittle, cleaner, crisper

There is still a calm a'storming
Winter washed and nestle warming

There is broth to stove and kettle
Piercing hunger never settles

There is now most everlasting
Only clutched with hands ungrasping

There is more to write I wonder
Utter thinly veiled from under

There is time or something thicker
Wading, fading making sicker

There is hidden here in secret
We who lose it never seek it

There is this so simple ender
Here for us pretend pretenders