The whirl wind comes up
through the ground covered with leaves...

I was dreaming of dying,
in some distant future of mine...

Snow driven thoughts
Like knives marked from...

She walks with the wind.
Her dress is made of a...

It is I who have dreamt too long,
through the once quiet forest...

There she was, weaving between
the hollowed trees, disappearing...

Our new existence
is drawn in separation...

In my carefree dream-like hours,
I stumbled upon a grieving mother...

The hiss of your existence
lies alongside the dead trees...

The picture of death
Looms with painted blood...

I know not your sorrow
But i know mine...

I remember as a kid
The prairie grass...