Frail bones and strained smile tear a weary heart,
The world’s eye, unseen, passes a judgment mark,
Answers to mysteries, that we’ll ne’er find,
Where in this wide world do we seek our luck?
The tempest rages on, ne’er ceasing to rest,
The boat master has to control before it falls apart.
But if he finds a shore, some land, he can be as blessed,
A shelter he has found, a place to rest his heart.
From forth the loins of chaos spring order,
Two souls entwine to form a kindred hart.
The world converges on this union, so dear,
Anticipation fuels the fire’s start.
This bond should start, for fear of it being late,
Thus with this union a new future create.