So gentle, as if you are hurt to hold.
I dream of you, a bird that night has stole.
We dance the dance, around the fires we chant.
I find your eyes, green leaves of the plant
From which you grew, and bloomed, and burned, and fell
To rise again, blood and bone of the swell
Behind my chest that beats only of you.
But your fires fade, you go into the night
So I dream of you, my bird lost in flight.