Night falls; in the chariot of moon goddess
Draped in shadow silk and encrusted with stars
She sits; crimson staining her unearthly bodice
A deadly wound among thousand golden scars
He drops his silver sword, scream dies in his throat
The blackness of her eyes slowly turning white
He sheds tears; it is by a song he himself rewrote;
A mere mortal who has slayed the Queen of the Night
The crown is his; he won the castle and the throne of dust
He sees his family, all as one looking at the sky
He reaches out, but the night is eternal, and the space is vast
All alone, he listens to their prayers but he can't reply
He waits patiently, for years, until another appears
As was he; the hero with no regard for what it would require
Until then, he watches from the universe's frontiers
And remembers his world, missing the warm touch of fire