When your penance is done
Come find me
When all the judges cloaked in stone
Have faced away
Seek the rill beneath the bowers and strings
Of fine pearls
Down in the fold of sacred hills
Among the elms
Where animals and birds find shelter
Come find me
I am nestled in grasses never trod
By heartbroken
Not a single root torn
In the bard’s trembling grief
Seek out what is freely given
Come find me
In the wake of winter’s dark flight
And take what you will
Of these blossoms
My colours lie in wait for you And none other
― Come Find Me
