The withering corpse slips away
to where? I am not sure but it is gone
It is better that way
She tells me.

How can she know what is better?
How can I know?
How can anyone know?
How?

I suppose one must believe what they hear most.
The more you hear it, the more true it must be
But what if the world is lying

Where does that leave me?
Where does that leave him?
Where does that leave us all?

I guess we are just the summer's day laughs fading into the soft tides
awaiting the dark maiden with her eyes glazed and heart afire.

But what does she bring?
or
What does she take?
What does she cause?
And who does she break?

The questions swirl as the fog thickens and eventually her hand reaches out and pulls us into
the Soft Tides.