Have you been bleeding ice again
in the past million years?
I saw it in your eyes back then,
the image of your fears.

Have you learned any words by now
that people can perceive?
That don't disintegrate somehow,
in times of loss and grieve.

Did you visit sporadically
or have you kept away?
You've always lived nomadically,
yet never found a way.

Is there a chance to meet you there?
Have all your hymns been drowned?
I really hope you're taking care
of the spiders we once found.