We now could face our seedling,    and to accept the disliked figure it bears    Watch while it stings my growing    as this old friend lasted for years       That grey and simple passage hidden within    My beloved nectar, it is what he needs    held inside ethereal glass of red potion    I do now lie cold in grass and plead       Begging this familiar face to give oceans    but he just hands me the weeds    as morningrise never reached my chambers    I stare that pale knife with greed       It flashes the only colour to my portrait    in this moment's ashes; it is a dream    No tears to give for this long trail    this elixir; my blood is what I bleed       In a word of simplicity and hasted strength    I never saw that blinking again...