Speak to me softly with your hollowed eyes,
Not for sight, for naught you see, but mind.
With blissful silence, beneath the crimson skies,
We seek the legends poets dream to find -
To whispered silence does my muse consort
Enraptured by Immortal clarion call,
Finding strength in Him who I support
And weaving myself from fabrics of His pall
But yet, in you there flickers the bright spark
Of Hope to cast away my darkest fears -
Thus in Renewal, friendship makes its mark
Until there's no more reason for my tears.
You're my foundation, built from solid stone,
Moving as equals towards the dark unknown.

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Severin, in the year 256 MA.