Snow falling through
a hole in the roof.
Blue lights in
a Thousand castles.

Through the door
that no longer opens
the Quiet Lion
still speaks .

My Fathers whispers
still ring in my ears.
Through a house full of dust
and windows made of Stone .

Barefoot at the waters edge
trapped forever in the slack tides.
Something inside has broken
I know it will never heal .

Into the kiss of the summers heat
The rumble of the brown Earth.
The rhythm of the gentle waves.
A tolling of a lonesome bell.
In the swirl of the quiet light.
His name always on the wind.

May the Angels speak
the Ancient whispers
and sooth the Quiet Lion.
Say his name for peace .