Bone Reflection, opus 2480

There’s a gless whaur stane grows deid, Whaur shaddaes reel but dinnae cry. Their steps are scored on ash an reed, A ring o’ silence ben the sty. We wear the names we ne’er hae telt, Wi ribbons tied tae ither’s sins. The lift is thin, the licht has melt— Yet ye bide close as whisper winds. So twirl, ma shade, through lown unkent, On bain an thread yer path is drawn. The glaiss is brakk, the vow is rent — But still ye waltz, though time is gaun.