In the simplest of winters, the scenery changed
But the midnight began with the sound of your name
And the chill of the evening blew through like a ghost.
It is I, in the day, which you’ll think about most.

I can walk through the dead with their smiles frozen still
And their souls will beat strong though their hearts never will.
Maybe now when the voices of seasons erode
I will ask for more love than your voice ever showed.

All those men, sword in hand, in their chase after you,
All those boys, statuesque, when your gaze pierces through.
In these halls, a cathedral, a shrine of my own.
I came first armed with love, and you turned me to stone.

But my soul resurrects itself now and again.
With my petrified heart, I remained where I’d been.
All those boys, sword in hand, how their love for you grows.
But this boy, mirrored shield, brings this chase to a close.

23 Dec 02