The once forgotten wind swaying without rhythm,
Is found to replace such a decrepit world in which you have been forged,
The sun creating gleams on shadows just barely sharp enough to see.
Arcs streak vibrant colours against the stars,
I witness the changing of the seasons by day,
Little does the boat rock aboard the shore.
My very will owing to the expansive shadows,
Fires burning deep within without stopping.
This flame that burns within your heart creates ripples about the sea,
And I hope to see the end of the day,
In truth and serenity.
For the things that once created shadows,
Cannot hold a true grasp on the golden rings,
It but melts the surface of my skin,
Rupturing the foulness of my soul.
Father does little to seed the wounds,
Mother is the other,
Twinges of flame are but a reckoning that forth came.