This heart -
This February twilight sky -
Are of the deepest blue.
I will stay here for a while, to remember.
Till the 13th moon is upon me.

I hold my breath, to know who I am
I have no emotion, my tonic to live
I lie all the time, as I’m the truest
I died a long time ago, to live as a hostage

Somewhere in a city as old as time
A bus pulls away into a winter night
I stay behind, to watch her move on in time
The falling snow becomes ice rain, cold and alive
Does she watch me disappear, or I her?
She smiles at me like the moon might wane
We know the night must end this way
For the sun needs to rise to mark a new day.

Our dreams, not all came true.
She holds my hand, to take me to the tower.
There she speaks a language of our own.
Seven lifetimes she’s been my wife -
Seven more anew.

The dead are not ghosts.

Those who live as ghosts -

- are the true dead.

The only sound you hear is the sea.
She hears the sounds of the ages from the shore.
You may see the moon.
She sees generations past, shining above.
In the mirror you see yourself, you hear a man.
She sees and hears …

With summer’s end, part of him died.
With what remains, he watches the fall.
As darkness and cold become the days -
He stays inside her for longer.
In the aftermath of warmth their passion creates.
The snow begins, falling silently, unlike rain.
The winter sky always claims the sun.
A heroic heart stops beating -
So ends a great adventure.
All but him will remember when he returns.