I know always the weariness of dreams,

The great and grievous vanity of joy and hope;

Frail wishes that pass,

where lassitude and torpor remain,

Feverish fervour

and desperate, brief delights;

A dream of somewhat fallen fortune,

beneath a silver moon standing watch

over our wishes and hopes, as we stand

beneath the drifting petals

that tremble, flame and fall

in the sunset,

the slowly wasting trees,

the dawns and the stars that wane

on the tides of the seasons.

And here, beneath this savage light,

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The stellar-manifested truth sublime,

We must gaze with sight immutable

to understand and wield

the brutal radiance of creation

and wield the powers

of life and death.

Only for these who dance in our light

are the memories

Of sorcerous moons and

hopeful suns that were;

And we have found,

where fallen leaves now stir,

the dreams of those

who withered and died

beneath the bale-white

gleam,

the relentless march of our

blessed infinities.