The stillness of change has spoken,

for their brand new life,

but not the stars across the wide-open

and the never-ending strife.

It follows through steady and broken

tempting fate not to twist the knife.

It fades against the city lights,

against the sleepless nights;

of shadows in sleeping denial

trapped in collective spiral

on marble pedestals taking higher

the dreams born in mire.

Ocean eyes see the heart of things;

Souls like birds each passing day

with eccentric hearts of silver wings.

Thus, wind come what may,

listen when the day sings

to the bird caged in clay.

Souls long for tranquil still;

a soothing thrill

of listening to eternal gratitude,

the sole friend in solitude,

which never decays

and within, it always stays.

They gaze up the stars above,

at eternal earnest love,

waiting forever for the lofty sky

to finally decide and cry

a one shinning tear

to reside with them here.