Though I've called your name a thousand times,

my words are blown back into my face.

The wind makes my skin harder still.

The clouds race by over-head

and I fight to remain standing,

the signs of endless journeys shows in my weakened stance.

I wish for the ground to open.

I have been around the world and back,

I have re-lived every memory,

re-dreamt every dream and felt every touch (again).

Still the clouds will race,

the wind will cut and soon I will fall.

The dust will form a mound that shall be my tomb,

never to be whetted by the tears of mourning,

because I was lost long ago in a colder world and lost you forever