through sunlit skies, through drifts of snow;
in dancing clouds above the sea,
I call to her, and she to me.
So real was she. She laughed, she cried,
she loved, she lost, she lived, she died.
In hopes and dreams, so real was she,
she lived her life that I may be.
The blood through which my veins does flow,
the same as hers, so long ago.
So it will be. Then when I’m gone,
in a future child it will flow on.
I’ll live my life, and when it’s done,
I’ll live again in those to come.
For I’m a bridge from her to me,
from all that were, to those that be.