We stand before the tide,

  beholden to some alien moon,

  watching the ebb and flow

  of distant hopes and wishes

  in an unfading fantasy.

  A devil stood in the evening rain,

  a shadow in the crimson light,

  haloed by the setting sun,

  it stood upon those pearly shores,

  the revelation

  of some madness descended

  from the beauty

  of balefire stars,

  Here, between the echoes

  Stillness and dusk briefly come to rest,

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  Stains of crimson spill on the crest

  Of mountains where silent wishes flit

  Between the peaks of memory.

  The moon declines in lonely silver

  Among the pearly white stars

  with heaven above,

  Veiling the pallours of our withering

  With clouds and desires

  forgotten in the passing days

  of our ceaseless wandering

  Into the thin and trembling gloom,

  we walk, bearing in our hearts

  the memory of our faded glory,

  pondering forever

  the hueless warp of light

  that was once

  the boundless splendour

  of divinity.