She is life a raging heart of fire Radiating warmth she shines giving life wherever her touch falls Birds fill the skies with song as she gazes upon them
He is death cold dust in comparison Reflecting her brilliance he mirrors merely twisting and turning in fancy to impress Wise wolves are heard to speak his falseness loudly
He steals using her beauty in his own name Poets pontificate about 'magic' when lovers gaze upon him with misplaced wonder Whilst mice dream that he's made of cheese, and moths take flight to warmer deaths
He steals knowing they will meet, and he'll hold his head in shame For he'll be but a shadow in her light As she warms his back again, then all at once we shall see him truly cowered by a diamond ring
Of course this isn't all true... mice actually prefer chocolate & I love the moon :)