Ever have those days of no light?
Where you want your name inscribed into a piece of stone?
Or wishing you could be that weeping willow that's draping the hill side?

Both seen and unique
Voices from above recall the day you earned your name on that stone
Fingers from all decades retrace marks in your bark from when they were weeping by that willow

Both monumental and irreplaceable
Days roll by
A lone crow calls into the thunderous clouds
Rose petals paddle on the breeze

Mud trickles down your roots,
Slips into the etched name that you were born with on that pristine piece of stone
No one will ever make sense of it all
Because no one will ever crave to have a stone like yours
And no one will ever weep by that willow
Or hear that call from the lone crow
Or watch the petals float along in the breeze

The calendar will mark
That day
When the angels call you
And you don't come

The watch on my wrist will show
That hour
When the angels come for you
And you begin to run the other way

The angels, all dressed in white
Will steal you
They will raise you up into the thunderous, sorrowing clouds

And you no longer live in a world that's
Lit by the Shadows in the Night