When the sun died, we shared the last moment's delight.
And God surely lied, if he said that moment was right.

We both knew, though I felt it the more;
The chill in the air, the dying of the light.
She whispered sad words;
Shed sad tears that fell like stars through the night.
And red lines marked their descent from her eyes.

We held each other, though I held tighter yet;
And as the air chilled our crystalline breath,
She whispered laments;
Cried bitter for what joy was not to be.
Our wings were spread, but the wind was cold death,
and in cruel felicity,
it disallowed us our flight. We would never be free.
I closed my eyes.

I thought of the sun.
Icarus had in mind the kindest of ends;
to burn; to blaze; in a pyre so bright.
But to freeze in a daze, so mired in night;
With no luminescence nor warmth to ease our chill plight.
With no heat to dry the moisture that leaked from our eyes.

Together, we thought we would be able to fight.
But it was not to be so.
Forever, we vowed; unto the dying of the light.
We died in each other's arms; but cold and alone.

And our martyr'd tears froze into stars, and they relit the skies.