the house shutters it’s windows, the blinds are down, the doors closed, winter seeps in, frost glitters like something from the underworld, the flame has gone cold–blue and deep–no warmth but somehow luminous; i don’t understand it, i must follow it, love, i have not gone, but i must go, the moonlit path calls me; love, the grounds still bind us, don’t worry—please, bring back your flaming torch, the waters await your sunstream,