There was a calmness
Of  beauty created by God
Yet no-one ever understood the whispers
And morals of a hidden silence
A seeker of solitude were they
But no one seems to feel the weather
As it quickly changes
Why must beautiful dreams vanish
As a forgotten lie?
Was silence ever the perfect shield?
Was silence ever the perfect buckler
For a personal type of dusty armor?
The rhythm was always
Calling from the shade
It was soulful and cold
And separated by space
That I could only understand it's beauty
My hands first became cold there alone
A single dried stalk of grain
Was the fading star in the dawn
A story was told without uttering a word
But no one seems to feel the weather
As it quickly changes
Why must beautiful dreams vanish
As a forgotten lie?
From a paper moon shape
These silent moments
Will always pass
From hands of cold
A certain shade of shadowy
And half forgotten daydreams