Beneath a sky where swirling clouds take flight, Two souls are bound upon a wooden way. The golden marsh reflects a liquid light, As cycles turn within the fading day.
With hands entwined, they stand against the tide, Where metal blooms among the swaying reed. The mechanical birds in circles glide, A strange and silver beauty they concede.
Though iron gears may turn within the flower, And steel-winged herons drift across the blue, They find a soft and everlasting power In hearts that beat with rhythm deep and true.
Amidst a world of copper and of stone, They walk the path and never walk alone.