The Waning
These eyes have wept, torrents of tears
The sense of wonder, slowly sleeping away
The love that embodied, this false serenity
Was no more tragic, than my own illusion
The call beyond the veil, from the orchards of limbs
And gently violent spirals, where thoughts are born
You possess the answer to it all!
A soul on the wane, that is the price of life
For I will come to you, ultimately alone
