May the moth not care,
Towards the light.
May the flower refuse to blossom,
In springtime.
May the rise of a full moon,
Not urge the wolf to howl.
May the smell of fresh blood,
Not make the lion prowl.
May the moon not,
Direct the tides.
May the Lady of Shallot,
Not look at the Knight.
May I not be afraid,
Of a long forgotten feel.
May the sight of you not rekindle,
The old fire, my hearts ordeal.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
May the moth not care,
Towards the light.
May the flower refuse to blossom,
In springtime.
May the rise of a full moon,
Not urge the wolf to howl.
May the smell of fresh blood,
Not make the lion prowl.
May the moon not,
Direct the tides.
May the Lady of Shallot,
Not look at the Knight.
May I not be afraid,
Of a long forgotten feel.
May the sight of you not rekindle,
The old fire, my hearts ordeal.