(no subject)
Colder than the Northern winds in December morning. Sad is my cry that rings, from this cold distant shore. Winter has come too late. Too close beside me. How can I chase all these fears inside?
I'll wait the signs to come. I'll find a way. I'll wait the time to come. I'll find a way home. My light shall be the moon and my path the ocean.
Tell me. Who can warm my soul? Who can quell my passion? Out of these dreams a boat. I will sail home to her.