Light dies on its way toward the infinite cold.
Space between points, exploding forever,
If I could look back upon such void,
I would see two solid objects—
You and I at arms.

An ageless tree blossoms where no one could grow,
It stands on the precipice, holding sheer rock,
Winds lash from four corners singing— no,
Elements crying— tree is not a tree,
I hold your soul in stone.