A slowly swiftly fleeting song she sings
softly singing and consoling
floating freely unburdened unlike the sound of bells
of which within stone walls thickened the music rings

As she sings in the meadow mourningly melody making
waving webs of love long lost longingly music inclines
strands and bands a cord deep woven
heart wrapped tight confined and having for long pined
the love for which she goes her life forsaking

But what is life but a willowy whisper
woven weakly winsome white without reach
darkness dares descent to surround
a planet progressing within a universe regressing
(Or is it the other way around?)