Grab my heart in your great fist,
And squeeze it into life, or death,
For I feel not what's worst or best,
And what remains of my warm breath.
Indeed, I need your hold and might
Until I figure what I own,
Morning stabbing the heart of night,
To show me what the wind has blown.
I shall travel East and West
And ask the help of shining stars,
To find my way to Spirit of quest,
That won't be worthy if not far.
I won't befool myself again
Into sadness or despair.
All I'll conquer, for no fame,
But my heart, you conquer there.