Dear to Varda,
sung by the One,
you who walk in peace
trailing fingers through the pollen of star-fields––
dear one, do you see me?
I walk blind in shadows deep as death.
But touch my hand and I will feel the way.
You knew these shadows well.
Beloved of Estë,
servant of the One,
you whose gentle heart pulses the Song,
oh, hear me!
I cry, cry to the empty walls.
You who knew the despair of Alone, come near.
I cannot feel the air in my lungs
but your hand, small and fractured, will reach me.
Only whisper a word and I will answer.
Cherished by the Valar,
beloved of Eru,
Pain shrouds me in molten lead.
You, dear one,
crushed to diamond by the world’s despair,
lace your nine fingers through my ten,
catch me in your arms of morning-dust and star-glow
and, like a midwife, draw me forth.
So shall I feel the pulse of the universe upon my brow
and your tear-damp face on my hair
and your sweet voice murmuring,