If the flower thar survives the winter,
is the cunning of the black horses heart.
With thunder in its clapping feet,
and grace from end to start.
See me ride O Winter's sun, for thy
icy thaw shall one day end.
Seasons pass like lunar tides, and
Summer greets me, though hides around the bend.
The mighty breath and beat of heart,
comes sweet at a bitter cost.
And that which was in my posession before,
has now become that which is lost.
What life can there be without the
beauty of our wretched existence.
I would sooner lay down with the decay and
the rot, that let it die with no resistence.
So Summer will come, but no smile
shall it see.
For Winter's horse is galloping, with
its black pearls fixed upon me.
