I dedicate this to Lady Lianthe.

There is no threnody for utter darkness,
Nor dirge for nothingness, nor song for silence.
I sing to you in all your piercing presence.
You are not gone, but haunting in your nearness.
My pain is unrelenting in its starkness,
Unmerciful. Your ever-present absence
Becomes the heart of me, my grieving essence,
As I hold you in the shadow of your stillness.
Ah, my Lady! I'll not let you go
Though years pass through the chamber of my sorrow
And memory alight upon my will.
Sweet winds may through my open windows blow,
Yet I will sing to you upon the morrow
And dance with you across the sunlit sill.


Penned by my hand on the 4th of Naturalis, in the year 1 AM.