Would I be were it not for you, my loves, my life?
It is not a bracing cool that soothes and invigorates me but, rather,
a biting, bone-breaking cold that serves as my brittle companion whilst
I make the regular, this nocturnal peregrination
about Master's grounds, the heartland, this land of my heart.
I wander here and wander there, no actual destination in mind nor
charted path to take me, as usual, nowhere.
The moon has gone dark yet she suffers not that I should stumble and
shatter a bone and be rendered a cripple, no longer useful to her.
I live and I die but to serve my master, my mistress, who cannot but be good
to me as I, their child conceived and borne in a love declared beyond time,
space and memory, am ever devoted to ministrations at each their temples, those
that grace our land and give our pitiful lives true worth.