If neither sky and star nor sun and sea,
Will sing until times sweet closing of day.
What is the point? You hold no sway of me
I have no need of what will not or may
But maybe life is not so grand alone
For dark my days have been without...forlorn
That I have sent you away I bemoan
I should have held you tight, my unicorn
Now you dance free, with others who know time.
That it ticks slowly on, and we must love
For if we do not, our words cease to rhyme.
In that, the light goes out from up above
But in that dark? While kneeling on a pew
I have dreams of sun and stars, and of you

Time-
It is endless, spinning, never beginning.
A world of night, vast in its emptiness.
But filled with screaming.
Screams of pain, of death
Screams of loss, of loneliness
Screams of silence, of stillness.
We live in a world alone, trapped.
But we do not go silently into that silent drowning,
We fight to get free
And through that struggle we are recast.
Forged in the fires of tribulation
Through our eternal imprisonment we are changed by
Time-
It is the anvil, the clay, the spinning wheel.
That which breaks us,
Which bends us, tempers us,
Shapes us in it’s own design.
We are made into beings of darkness and wind
Creatures which fight back against the endless void
With claws of stygian darkness that tear the flesh of night.
With fangs of frigid cold, freezing the heart of frozen
Time-
For it it does have a heart,
Then it lives in the place where all others have stopped
Reveling in the absolute singularity of itself.
The snow soft sharpness of death
And the star bright singing's of life
There we stand.
Amidst the drifting ashes of crystal space
There we fight.
Amongst the shimmering storm
There we fall.
Alongside the souls of a thousand stars
There in that endless, spinning, never beginning place
There, in that world of night, vast in its emptiness
There in the heart of Time