Sighted fans that sign the weak their bellowing are traversed,
Through arms aright did they muster their spell hence allowed,
Downs that tree the trunk of mine buried only softly kept,
But the darkness can wait; waiting am I for thy step closer,
He waits and that wolf can surely find ye in the cold so easily,
Will ravage ye that morose sentiment whereupon lay still thy breath,
And escapes from his clutches as word months back uttered ere retracted,
Did sound his anger at he who mentioned so ye; grounded her to ashes,
Burns in her wake and thrown into her abyss whence I do gather,
Grabs her and forces that mild taste our tongues disdain urge united,
He watches us with that sorrow transferred from ye and our pleasure grown,
Rain that pours which soothe the night and this cold turn mild breeze forth,
Produces my heir in ye as he watches; and frowns at this parting his from ye,
Brings ye closer to me; brings ye closer to darkness; brings ye closer to ye,
Away, and away; to that forest and mine turned that wolf does stare,
These hairs that shimmer; those eyes that glare; those teeth that gauge,
That brings ye into my clutches more, and finally mine for all eternity,
Never lost and never uncared for; only the darkness binds us whole,
Where we pass and shall be the envy of the universe their shadows detached,
Creases their heart our binding contract for thy subservience whole.