The river flows through mountains steep;
at its end, a house in shadows deep.

If you take my hand, I’ll lead you there—
but hold it tight, with steady care.

The path is thorned, the world will stare,
and gods may envy what we dare.

But if you hold on, I’ll shield you true,
and weave a crown of flowers new.

Yet hold on tight, for fate may stray,
and carry you far and away.

If you stay close, I’ll thread a gown,
of woven fate and silken brown,
so you may dance in the gentle rain,
unbound by sorrow, free of pain.

But hold on tight, for time may part
and draw you from my weary heart.

If still you stay, I’ll halt the years,
to hear your song, untouched by fears.

But hold my hand, lest I forget
the way that’s known, the path we’ve met.

So if you hold on, I’ll keep your tale,
and when we reach the end, unveil
the story I’ve kept within my mind,
and share with you, both true and kind.