Mandarin orange, sunset gleam
Across the slowly painted hills
A fire is dying in the sky
Upon the wire the crows alight
Night is called into existence
Once more the twinkling stars cry out
A thousand screams of piercing light
Frames the moons silent, silver glow
Ancient air, moving silently
The nightingale rustles its wings
The fading blue heralds the dark
Blue jeans dripping from the day sky
White clouds abandoned skyward
Like sandals in the fresh cut grass
Waiting patiently for a wind
Homeward bound, they fade away slow
A thousand years of agony
Erosion in the slowest sense
And for what? They are forgotten
A lost toy, left in the town park
A homework assignment, thrown out
They crumple up and blow away

Dust of the earth, how will you die?
Will the rains wet you with their dew?
Or do you remain, blown by winds?
A thousand tired tales you tell us
The things you have seen, and have lost
You shout your story to the sky!
Until you are naught but a whisper
Spread over the earth, the people know
They know but they can’t remember
Until the last day, they forget
But then the sun sets below them
Bright orange, then they remember
A brilliant tale of earths first birth
How life sprang up from the blackness
At the call of a mighty word
They remember, they hear the call
They lift their heads to the heavens
They fly up into the sunset
Wings of silver, reflected light
The moon becomes their reflection
Dark black outlines against the stars
A spirit dying in the sky
A bright, shimmering moonlit night
The ancient air calls up a song
Now the dawn, Mandarin orange