Until you understand you have set alight time
I wish for the wind to howl and the rain to pour,
until you speak plainly of your part in the crime
I wish for lightening to sting and thunder to roar.

I thank the flautists and lutenists
I lean on through this cold, bleak mist.
And thanks to those whose heartache should not be,
smallest comfort as the greatest to me.

I wish for you to see further
than your shaving mirror.
While you cannot I wish for you 
to face what's really there.

I thank the days, slow transforming seasons
though they may heap sorrow on pain,
for here in memory's cloistered garden
I feel my hearts joy live again.

The truth, be well aware, 
keeps rolling around your head
pursued by a tireless imp 
who'll have that truth said.