Life seems to me a depressing lament,
Piercing my heart with sad content.
Not having purpose nor intent,
It makes breathing a constant torment.

Searching my soul in hope for meaning,
I look up and find my eyes intervening.

Standing there in elegancy and grace,
White hair a-flowing in gentle breeze.
Beaming around the beautyfullest smile,
She hits my core as the sun on my face.

Mercilessly writing meaning in my soul,
She turns to me, making me whole.

Striving hard to find something to say,
My heart having so much to convery.
Putting all my feelings on display,
I take her hand and pray her to stay.

Knowing my existance's futility should she go,
I to her my soul bestow.

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Ferinus, in the year 424 AD.