Mental illness doesn't touch the
soul Even as it punishes the mind. None can will the wanderings of the wind, Though winter come, and tempests take their toll. All who suffer innocent shall find Love waiting by the window, well and whole, Inside the heart, where it has full control, Longing ever, ever unresigned. Let go your fear, and follow, then, your path, Neither more nor less constrained than those Embraced by gods less ruthless in their wrath. Sing bravely down the windrows of your woes, Savoring a grace that comes and goes.