In strange, silky sine waves of moonlight and milk
heaven spills its glow upon the moor.
A gentle breeze is calling me
so, darling, let’s be still
and read the stars, and all the parts to be once more.
In part, I sit beside you ever softening my breath
going deeper to the source that lies within.
Yet a part of me does drift away,
ill-begat once more by death
always lurking, creeping closer–with its bleak and lonely grin.
All at once there is a feeling and it washes over me.
Blackened spectre and the light begin to meld
to form the ever-spinning wheel of life
I’ve come to know and love,
In the fog of knowing,
here, your hand in mine will always tenderly be held.