Recall the light that swam within

their bleeding parchment core.

Listen to the petals fall,

for that light shines no more.

-

Oh see ephemeral ashes

as they drift within the snow,

and ask your better questions,

for the dreamers always know.

-

Yes, listen to the oil paint

in old and shattered space.

For once we saw upon the page

the journey of this place.

-

And how can you not see it?

And why do you not feel

the difference twixt the present

and what is truly real?

-

-