If silence be the food of need,

Then silence I give unto thee.

A friend made is thus unmade,

The winds do not wail for me.

The feeble images of dissolution spread across our hearts.

How can we behold again the lost realms of the ancient past?

'Tis no more...

Only a wanderer meandering through the dense forest of decay,

Full of poisonous thorns and pernicious scorns,

Is left, weeping for days

That are no more...

Oh, never more....

Yet, a pure heart is still yearning

For more, quivering & beating still,

Like a rill that is full of dark currents

And unseen passions, flows

Through the world