A vast and vacant vale

Ornated with haxe-veiled sylvan lakes

Wherein aught dive straight

Wor-begone shadows and nocturnal fays

Oh pure primeval gate

O'er grand piny mountains thou wait

'Neath the night's queen face

I wonder at the infinite space...



Caught in marble cold, crowned with a aurecle of livid flame

Veiled by fragile silks, naked she stands in the garden of grief

Distant thunders break whilst she weeps for the hustling flurry

And as the wind arrives I cling to her eloquent cold skin and sigh



The moon became my heart, pulsing the silver blood of thine

A new eyeless sight thou givest mee to admire a world sans light

Nightwards I sweep by the purest catharsis, the divinity of silence

A rapture so cold...obscure in melancholic sublimity