Ash shall mark my forehead; my lips shall feast upon stone—
 Lest fragments of breath fill me up; I’ll be cold and as dusty as bone.
 Let wine wet my forehead, let scales seal my eyes, let my hair be 
      tangled in name—
 Let life bring me verses of hearts recognized; ignited twin spirits of flame.
  
 Alone I shall live, alone I shall wander, alone in a valley of souls,
 My home is a graveyard: my garden a crypt; my body a city of coal.
 My tears . . . they will freeze, and I’ll send them aloft; the sky will be 
      scribbled with ice,
 ‘Til we meet in a meadow, green grass unadorned; souls repeating twice.
  
 On this day when we meet the stars will dance and the moon will
       tremble and cry,
 Yes! even the heavens will know and rejoice true love as it travels on by. 
 You’ll see me, I’ll see you, and we’ll recognize the truest of hearts, 
 For both of us beat only as one, the wholeness of passion in parts.