Valediction:

Where have you gone oh chariot of my salvation?

Take my sutured heart in your arms and squeeze,

It feels not the strain.

I plead persistently to those whom gaze upon my rivers,

Crimson as they may be,

Do not stare long my fair weather friend,

The image might cause you unrest.

For at the head of this stream is a lucky soul,

Through the pain of a bloody lid might see,

The fact that it is truly a blessed gift,

To shed tears in need.

You might scoff at my dream and prayer,

For you dream to be rid of such a treasure,

I plead at your feet groveling to your cause,

Lend me your sympathy so that I might release,

This glacier of torment is that left long forgotten,

It is stained red for reason.

This ice within the vast voids I hide as a conglomerate of the traces,

The proof that every soul has left their print as the heel grazed my face,

It drips down slowly to this aged cold and builds upon the surface,

Expanding slowly as ice would do,

It is the way of things.

So when I cry out my envious respects,

Understand that I lack what you wish be gone,

And this feeling of feeling that my self cannot express,

Creates the voids where in the crimson glacier sleeps.

Memories make my precious oracles to light… ache,

So do not hate me, when I say I must forget.