I cried once, only once,
Yet no one acknowledged my lamentations,
No one would give me comfort,
So I journeyed to a shadowed spire
And bewailed my sorrows, alone.

Then, there came a voice to me,
And though it was only a whisper,
My ears did bleed at its sounding,
And my heart did melt at it sounding,
Then my soul, it was muted,
And my tears could scream no more

Visions appeared to me painted in black,
Revealing an underlying monotone
Of the rhythms in the fold,
A veiled fate of angels
Cast down before my feet.

There was a time I used to dream
Of a stolen, gray twilight,
That flowed from a similar stream
As did Epimetheus’ gaze,
Still those dreams were shrouded
Behind a veil of time and thought

I yearn for a lost horizon
Beyond the sight or smell of a rose,
Yet its fragrance is not mistaken,
So pleasant at the call of dusk,
So pleasant, I wish I could grant it
A gift of crystaline splendor.

Help me, I’ve lost my horizon,
All I can find are whispers
As I gaze through the looking glass,
That drive me further from my heaven

My tears were once denied,
I felt the night there at my side,
Its blanket didn’t keep me warm
And soon I wandered away from home,
Now the paths I see behind me
Are not the ones I first sojourned.

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