Once upon a summer sun, once while in my youth,
I grew to love my dearest friend and loved him in our youth.
I found beneath the summer sun, when I first loved my friend,
In silence, he had since loved me. To him alone I’d bend.
Once upon a summer storm, my love I did adore,
Until my love I lost one day to Autumn’s fire storm.
I searched for him alone in vain. I screamed inside. I mourned,
For in the wake of winter’s might, my love was there no more.
Through him I laughed and loved and sighed. Through him I could fly.
Without him I had ceased to breathe. Without him I had died.
Blanketed in winter’s cold without my lover’s warmth.
Slowly death I did consume, chilled as I called, “Come forth.”
In death, I searched. In death, I lived. In death I grew to hate,
My sweet and bitter “Incomplete”: my dire autumn fate.
Years passed by. My heart decayed for naught and in vain.
Toward death’s door and in the dark, I reached, succumbed to pain.
And only when I did submit with my final breath,
Did my friend from light’s last flame save me from my death.
At death’s door my love found me and pulled me from the dark.
From the dark he carried me, my love restored to me.
In his arms with laughter’s tears we rose up from the ash,
And there we kissed, we loved, we soared for always ever more.