that we live in the light,
but I have learned to love the dark,
whom she fears:
she wants the world to live forever.
wastelands arose at her whim,
a world laid waste by grief.
I cannot mourn the death
from which springs life, first shoots
beneath my feet as I tread
barefoot back to her,
to keep her sunshine-safe.
Goodbye, tender leaves, start of spring:
I will gather you home when I return.