Capture my love with a harp and a bow
Sing high for my heart
but to shoot me, aim low.

"Protect this man", I asked the trees,
"who rides through dale and dell,
and send a message on the breeze:
a whisper that he's well."

I asked the wind to carry far
the words I couldn't speak:
"I miss your heart beside my hearth
yet wish you all you seek."

I asked the waves to take this lore
across the rainy sea
and lay it on some distant shore:
"Remember - love - be free."

Let the snow fall. It settles where it will,
over broken rocks and the ancient hill
(the burial mound of all we once held dear).
Snow obscures the path. Everything's new from here.

Engage me then, Fortune. I know of your plans
to threaten my home, my life and my land.
How close dare you get before I take this shot?
My feet are unsteady, but my aim is not.

Come stand with your feeble battalion before me.
I know all your moves now and frankly, you bore me.
Surround me with multiple lines of attack:
small as I am, I can kick higher than that.

if the stone could speak
it would say to the wind
cease this restless seeking
and stay awhile with me

but the stone cannot speak
and the wind rushes on
to the faraway forest;
it dances with the trees

The dog and me, we'll find the sea
And run beside the waves
I'll slip on stones, he'll hunt for bones
Beside the sea, the dog and me.

Beside a fire, burning higher
Than any human pain could be
We'll slowly sleep, as embers leap,
And sorrows won't exist for me.

I'll find a dog as lost as me
And offer him my bones.
And if he loves me, tired and small,
We'll share a life, our love, our all.

The dog and me, we'll find the sea
That washes broken love away.
I'll wake for him; he'll wait for me.
We'll always be; the dog and me.

A soul is heat for the body: sometimes a warm inner blanket, occasionally a scorching sublimation of white-hot blood. When a soul is lost, its body grows cold and slow.

My soul was missing, neglected through lack of use. It had left to seek a more hospitable host. Yours was burning visible funeral fires for the loss of love: your hurt was a beacon. Your fire-soul surrounded your skin, a thin blue haze of flickering pain. Your inside was cracking with frightened ice. I caught the sparks from your skin-fire and they kindled a new soul in me.

As my body became warm again, your funeral-fire burned dry. You grew cold and still. You held me for the comfort of warmth, for movement. You kissed me, and the kiss ****** my sublime soul out of my mouth and into your bones, your lungs, your heart.

Our shared soul-fire is now yours alone to hold; my mouth still burns, but my blood and bones are cold.