No one but mother can remember this.
No one except she, but she now is dead,
can testify about the light we miss.

A loveless breeze embraces my bent head
as lilies clad in wintertide touch stone.
These words were ripped from my chest to be read.

No one should journey through this world alone
or tether themselves to a bloodless form,
but feet almost collapse beneath old bone.

Yet, there is hope to find within the storm,
And surely we shall rise from the abyss
to go where hapless humans can transform.

That splendid dwelling where we cornered bliss
No one but mother can remember this.