Above the world

  the ghostly suns have

  burned out

  like candles guttering

  in the night.

  In the ascendant skies,

  there succeeded a fugitive light,

  stretched out like a scar

  across the navy-stained

  heavens.

  I belong to those wayward ideals

  Once known, or once suspected,

  That exist no more for man.

  I drove them from paradise,

  a burning blade forever

  barring the way.

  Sometimes I am glimpsed by dreamers

  Whose eyes have not been blinded

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  By the hell-lamps

  of their fallen decadence.

  In me you'll find lost dreams;

  the pale desire

  Whose eyes have looked on madness,

  Their own faltering light inverted;

  the vanity that only tells of

  love and hope.

  Like a song

  Heard from afar,

  imperishable beauty calls

  Out of the mist and rain

  across the limitless sea,

  Like the silent silver

  song of the faded phantom moon.

  When the night is blind,

  a golden memory falls,

  Never to rise again.

  Voice of the leaves that die,

  Whisper and sigh

  Of gardens waning,

  imperfect, and forever-decaying

  facsimiles of Eden,

  their hollow lights

  slowly fading into the night.