a h where didst thou wander, my own true love?
Oh where didst thou wander?aasked she.
Through thorn and frost, through fire and storm,
All for the love of thee.

I shall cross where the dunes like oceans rise,
Beneath the red suna flame,
And carry thy sweet Cyrenian voice
Like prayer upon my name.

I shall drink from bitter desert wells
Where no green branch may be,
And sleep beneath the jackala cry,
All for the love of thee.

I shall wander these salt-white dunes
Where blinded travellers fall,
And follow still thy distant light
To your Hidden Place's call.

Though my feet be torn by shattered stone
And scorched by that desert's heat,
Through burning sands I will search
Till once again we meet.

I shall even climb the blackened mountain paths
Where everwinter spirits breathe,
And brave the snows of northern peaks
All for the love of thee.

The wild winds of the Vashnars cold
May strip the leaves from me,
Yet bare of vine and bloom Ia stand
All for the love of thee.

Ia wade through waters deep,
Where dark things coil unseen,
And walk through the Underworld alone,
Where Death stalks within.

Ia even wear no crown of branch and bloom,
Nor hear again my sisters sing,
If it means thy gentle hands
Around my own should cling.

And when at last the years grow long
And age steals sight from thee,
Still shall I guide thy weary steps,
All for the love of thee.

All for the love of thee...

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Miraman, in the year 1005 AF.