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Hold my hand when winter comes
And feel me not shivering
There is no specter within me
To fear, no wraith will linger
Ill and tortured behind my eyes
And I will bow to no white throne

I will go into the heart of things
I will sink into basalt and magma
I will be rivers to the thirsty,
And meat to the lion, and the lion
And the thirsty.

I will be grass dancing in the wind
And fly as a feather on a bird
And when you sing I will be the air
That trembles in your throat
Forever indivisible, I will remain
With you until we mingle
In the belly of the earth again