Do yearning hearts ken what shall be wise for both thee and for me? Or should one know better and stand all the rest, for above all things there are those who are better and those who are nae, like kenning of yore; A strang arm or a weak? Who is right? What makes a man true? Of all kin true fair there be only een maybe twa that be the erd een, I say this so bare but I know it to be wise, mine life can nae be better now that I have found true, what makes a man to wax, nae for geld nar for fame, but for love and to be seen, is all mine heart needs. Many things come and sure they go too, but when fair tides come can and man blame this true, for in the sand we built moats, parched hearts come drink, shall thy water be preserved? Shall this smash like tides against rocky craig, is the kenning of all things found in the gap? Back then oh back then those terrible bursts, the wind the howling, a world of all found in one, cracked ice, eyes in the bush, watchful grins, hungry bellies, contrast to now all worldly delight comes free, yet mine heart longs for those tides long past, when there we were free. A breeze comes in and touches mine fair face, oh gust where have thee been, where shall thee go? Do you remember my touch? Do you ken those good tides, be ye the same gust that one twirled with my under those sanguine skies? So many sons and so many daughters, do thou wot? To want for want, to crave for craven, surely this be mad, spoon to mouth and shit to ditch, this earth of wonder made grim and dim, yet colors spring forth brighter than ever before, for why then doth I want for want and crave for crave, when all things come free? Some tide, perhaps, in glacial winds we shall meet, will the north wind make mine cheeks rosy? Will the snow show her beauty dressed in layers scarlet? Land of the moon, land of the sun, what lay below your bones? Here I beg to meet my end, one day to be found, under white bones. I want I want I want and I want yet lay here in curls I look and beg for thee, yet who are thee, and why art thou for me? I ken this yet nae can speak it to ear, not for skill but for words escape thee, this world full of things, so many things, I just want us all to be free. White blanket come take me, for here I wish to lay, amongst the whispers below, one day too like them I shall whisper up at thee, no decay no corbies to come take me away, here I stand afflicted by medusa, frozen yet free, what more could I possibly yearn to be? For the reaper’s blade is soft and it comes with a kiss, but in this life without thy heart I would surely be remiss, mine heart is bare mine mind a gap, yet in this I find it all the made better to fill, so forgive this moan I have only a quill.