From snow and blood,
Comes a man untouched,
In virtue and verse,
Through her letters terse,
A wayward fire,
In work and tire,
Unravels from its bundle,
Now calmed flame in a candle,
For a princess of no crown,
He stands the gem above her brows,
He fights in green,
For his land holy,
In his light she gleams,
Clad in purple glory,
This journey for her only,
A journey so lonely,
It wouldn't stay such a divine past,
If the two had ever met at last,
And at last had come,
His letter, his last hum,
The heavens never cease to sing,
Of how love is a painful thing.
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