Not the train can bring a soul back to all burned meadows, the unyielding pain. With water for the leaves, eyes for the grace of a hip, a mother's kiss upon tainted dew in all collected memories brought forth towards renewed sceneries. Love explores a day in life, weeping for half, then joy for the other. Simplest kiss, brought to smother the stains from a withered crown. Her eyes, her life in the strife, the winter born upon her back - Were all messages, all endings too soon to leave to fade into white, to desert mending. Her eyes for winter's course upon the tragic path, though love had known to fly before tears sent her to die. Fill the gaps, hurt what is left, to treasure breath, - a sigh before all eyes had wept. Sleeping beneath your moon, overlapped in the safety of a million shadows still burning meadows. A father's rose, a mother's wilted quilt - covers us in the still-birth - for what is naked in the earth. We live for the other, die for another.