Mournings

My feet thrown back in water, but not the same-

I pray for showers of gold, as the emptiness consumes me;

useless mass of tissues, but I see you.

They named me for no reason, they bore me lonely,

oh sweet god of lightning, come down, consume me.

Have him tear apart the nations, kill Kings and saints with misguided arts,

or if he'll behead the Queen of Mountains and her sisters;

Through the rain he shall be born, him and I alike.