He swims upon the lake and swell.
Inside the waters where she fell
on that moonlit winter morn.
All alone and now all gone.

Within that wet, that lake of ice,
he spots her shade. Not once but twice.
She's smiling still, all hope and bells
just like she looked before she fell.

Oh Cre'Atus, please cut her loose,
his words fall dead like neck and noose.
And so he swims, his body cold,
in hope his heart gives in and folds.

This longing hits, and loneliness
becomes his friend, as bitterness
invades his soul, has come to linger
in this man once known as Wind Singer.

Of wind was he, and in his rhymes
there would be joy and better times.
His lips would purse,  his whistles call
and all the birds from sky would fall

into his home, a barren field.
A homely place, with little yield,
but tenderness, this man would give
to all the beasts and birds that live.

Inside the woods, he passed with light
around his feet, and in the bright
green heart of leaves and trees he chimed
with each pure whistle. Each soft rhyme.

He met her there, a girl of peace
so great her smile should never cease
and from that moment he knew joy.
An angels face. Heavens envoy.

He took her in, and showed the world
how God had surely carved this girl
from summer winds, and autumn song.
She stayed with him, where she belonged.

They walked the fields, the barren soil,
but with her laugh and through their toil,
the lands became a place of worth.
A place renowned throughout the Earth.

The love he knew. The heart they shared.
And every time he showed he cared
her love would swell. So would her life.
And so, he took her as his wife.

Time passed by quickly...

The nights grew long. The trees grew old.
The starlight those days seemed so cold.
The fields were bare. The harvest cleaned.
Their home was peaceful and serene.

But shadows crept within the trees,
so soft, so harsh, like a disease
it swept upon the woods and beasts
until all life had surely ceased.

There man and wife, unknowing still,
knew not their lands had fallen ill
with taint and shadow,  dark refined.
They sat in bliss while light declined

around their hearth. Around their love,
until the shade, wrapped like a glove
their home and with it in it's might
it weaved a spell, their hearts couldn't fight.

In fear she fled, and in her stead,
her husband stayed behind and bled
as he took arms and fought this fiend
with strength in men, so rarely seen.

At last he overcame his foe.
Threw down this dark, had overthrown,
but not victory or respite
had he,  for where now was his wife?

He fled into the trees and brush,
past deadened trees which once were lush.
Past beastly corpse, and silenced bird.
He called her name until he heard

a song, a sound. The heart of her.
He ran toward the sound in fear,
that he should somehow lose his light.
Should suffer loss because of blight.

And there he saw his beauty fair.
Against the sky he saw her there,
upon a cliff top, doomed to fall.
She answered not. Heeded no call.

In her despair her senses fled.
In her fear, panic in her head,
She saw her husband dead on the floor.
No more love. No more! No more!

And so as all the tales have told,
this lady fair. This beauty old,
jumped to the sky and met her fate.
The husband came, but was too late.

He screamed his pain to the skies.
'What was it for, Cre'Atus, why?!'
But silence met his pained demand,
and so he jumped, took life in hand,

but fate was not with him that day.
This life was not for him to slay
and he lived, he still breathed, still fought
against the death his loss had bought

for what is life without her near.
Why exist without her here?
Why go on within his fields,
alone, no song to grow the yield?

And so he swims within the swell.
Inside the waters where she fell.
His love is lost, straight to his core.
The Wind Singer will sing no more.