Love is not, and love will never be
The Mountain tips that touch the sky
But, yes it is the sorrowful night I brought to thee
An iridescent high

To worship is not to love
But I know of nothing more
Waiting for the chance at the veiled cove
Knock three times on wood-less door

But why does the moon long for the sun?
Still waiting, still wishing, even after the breaking of dawn.
The moon continues to chase, in the never ending run.
In eclipses she shatters, in eclipses he yawns.

The foolishness of love, the gentleness of pain
Something I will never trade, **the darkest stain.