Mr. Ice may I beseech you?

Come and sit so I can teach you

Why your cold chills to the bone

And why you walk your halls alone

Frosty breath is harsh and crass

Leaving those with a bitter past

Frostbit, and rubbing sticks for fires

To ward the cold of your satire

Icy hands and icy veins

Can turn a touch from joy to pain

No wonder, those you fancy so much

Flee before your wintry touch

And what about your judging heart?

How can I even begin to start?

Forgiveness asked, should none suffice?

Tell me now, Mr. Ice

Would it be cruel to warm the halls

For those who come to call?

For one kind word, nod, or smile

To lighten their load just a little while?

Would it be wrong to warm your hands

Before you help the fallen stand?

Just a moment, Mr. Fire

I wish to speak of your desire

Your neighbors have me quite concerned

That you might not realize that you burn

With such a glorious, shining blaze

That you may not see them through the haze

Of the smoke that rises from the embers

Of things consumed, yet not remembered

Fueling your lust for life’s great treasures

Shiny things, adulterous pleasures

But what of those within your grasp?

Can they hope to safely pass

Through the heat and searing flames?

Would they be victims to your game?

Savage burns take long to heal

They wither, blister, burn, and peel

All from standing far too close

To their beloved, fiery host

Will your thirst be gone and quenched?

Or will you burn inch by inch

Like wildfire, the ones you hold so dear?

Will their pleas fall on deaf ears?

Mr. Wind, would you descend?

From the sky and let me bend

Your mighty will for just a time

Hold the gale and quiet the chimes

So that you may hear your lover’s cry

And see the pain in her tear-filled eyes

Her heart is twisting, turning, burning

Forever loving, patiently yearning

Somewhere here beneath the clouds

She continues to carry on somehow

With you here, without you there

How can you ever hope to share

One single thing with another?

When every gust takes you further

From the only the things that matter:

Hearth, and home, and pitter patters

Of little feet that yearn to hold

Their father’s hand and hear stories told

Of the sun-lit heavens that you have seen

And given to them inside their dreams

Mr. Stone, have I come to soon?

Are you risen from your earthy tomb?

Behind the hard and concrete walls

Has your heart received my call?

Deep inside, I know it’s there

A hidden whisper, a desperate prayer

Waiting, wishing for a chance

To sing, and laugh, and cry, and dance

Out from behind these ancient walls

Leaning heavy and rising tall

Stacked with fear, raised in pain

Stones of sorrow, mortared with shame

One more thing … this is worse

A walled-up heart has a two-fold curse

Locked away from its destined twin -

Another heart that can’t break in

Trying in vain with beating fists,

Bloody knuckles and desperate wish

To reunite, once again

With the one it called its friend

Oh please help me, Mr. Light

I come to you with a grievous plight

A terrible plague has befallen my kin

They cannot hear me above the din

The torrent of ice, stone, fire, and wind

I scarcely know where to begin

I try to plead, they turn away

I try to mention, to they never sway

I try to ask, to no good end

And I cannot bear to fail again

So I ask you now for your favor

Give me the strength to never waver

And perhaps one day out of ten

You could whisper unto them

And tip the balance to our side

Cracking the foundation of their pride

To which I will chisel, bit by bit

Until a light in their darkness is lit

And the only shadow that dare remain:

The one they cast before your holy name