O Sun,
O Moon,
Will I see ye once more?

By word I marched,
By order I bled,
There is a stale silence in this winter air.

I am last standing yet not unscathed,
Pain writhes through me,
But this man yet stands.

I carry on to see her, Sun.
I carry on to see her, Moon.

Sun shines on my heart and heals wounds all.
Moon cools heart and calms souls complete.

Without ye I may not carry forth,
Carry forth this weight of mine pains.

Yet shall I see these divine again,
The hurt shall be lifted,
The aches dispelled,
And Happily will this man live with his Sun and his Moon 

~Robert van Lingen
II-II-MMXII