To the Depths
From them and to them I now thee ask
of laments grace and finite reach
Pray you dear child, let not the rest of the wicked
sunder your heart. But them watch you grow,
and grow tired you will. For words are cheap, as
Bazaar tells. Yet all merchants sell it for cheap;
had they known its real value; they'd not sell at all.
You may carry their Wine, You may carry their Sins
But hear now, that the burden, nor the fault
Lies solely with you.
For you are free as your heart desires
And bound only to yourself
are you Eternal.