Hello my Heart of Stone

I will sink into the cold icy waters of Maine, but I will not drown.  I will not die.  I will go on living without men, without anyone, and I will laugh at destruction.  Tear me down world but know that I am a vigilante.  Here, here with my breath and matter.  I attended to this visage oft and on whom beside the ground and the earth and its matter would I not depend, give him my pocket full of stale crumbs; someone unknowingly erased the tall, dark image.  He is in a blizzard and I cannot touch him nor even see any signs of life, all snowflakes and unspeaking molecules.  My life's drawing is a blank scene of pines trees sketched in the distance all in graphite, mostly a land of snow.  My parents fade in their metamorphosis yet still live in the dreamy bliss of my best days of childhood and its glorious memory.  

Lover, you are different.  I saw the kings of Persia and wanted to be like their mountainous terrain.  I had my own red carpet and flew though the distant lands via Turkish tiles and an undulating salt sea, but it healed our skin.  I did not fly to a land of forests and silver. I remained on these streets and bridges my grandfather helped to build, which are constantly paved by another set of journeyman, people from across continents and seas.