Downpour by the starlight,
Echoes of your name; sightless,
voiceless ere the wall looming; seamless
red string by a braided hind sight,

And I,
By the stirring crossroads,
and the preluding high way;

Finally you,
Across the flaring lake,
upon the entwined clockwork;

Our sadness reflected,
Joy fleetingly refracted.

Under the twilight sky,
In between the chiming fray;
Within a moss-covered clay,
We thus found the stitch to flay.