bathe me in thy wisdom, clip my wings
and cradle me kindly, cold winter at my face,
take me in thy kingdom, grip my kinks
and brazenly timely, mold winter at my gaze
the stratified iris on an undulating riverside,
a man spoke to me of how a river flows
how the surface of the water glows
and how the pain of wither grows
when a man keeps a devastating kiss inside
the fulcrum point 