The light leaking in from the stars whisper midnight
Only a flickering candle keeps time
Where but a dim lit room would suffice?
Muttering dreams to an empty white page.

The kind flame descends; with your spirit in hand,
you paint the image of a life to come
But the world seems to change so fast
Your hesitant brush can't keep up.

So you search in the shadows for a constant in time
And your eyes become fixed on a vase
Dehydrated flowers weaving fingers together
Like a garden of youth to suffuse empty space.