With those who spring from Love, king of all;
I am your bounteous parent calling to all
Arms and villages, broken light
I've come to take your silent night

I have run out of time for love. I hide in the fireplace, watching you fight. The towers burning with far from holy light. Screaming leaves fall from the table, at least as much as she finds herself able. Heard by none, seen by all. Centuries pass. Monuments fall. I've seen you fight forever. Begging for something to come and save you. Something faster. Something easy. The answer, I pray tell all you children, is love! Love, I say!

Fiddling with pins and half-burnt matches, cast out your not yet lost battles and sensitive scratches. Walk out into the river flowing with sharp stones and feathered bones, these fears are so peculiar to all but you. Will you sit and watch the stained stove, will you go down softly? Who has grown too deserving, and who too little? Who fidgets and bemoans, who belittles your thrones, who sees all your tones?

Father of Songs, righter of Wrongs, all shouting throngs and sparsely hammered gongs - I call upon you to save us! Yes, you! Save the sweet talk, bring out the red meat, throw it far from these vultures' feet. Pour out the wine, never check the time, our reckoning is upon us! But I will not eat, no, I think myself too highly. I would never walk so far down the scaled road, step so unforgiving on your hapless toad, the light must create itself!

We are joined in spirit, close in hip. Never a woman on the shore.