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.