O, mark the chasm wrought in mortal clay
Between the sunbound, bright as dawning day,
And we, the nightborne, children of the hush,
Who learn our steps beneath the evening’s blush
The sunbound call to one another… lo! their harmony!
But shadows cradle nightborne hearts;
’Tis echo, echo, echo
that keeps the nightborne company!
They cry, “Behold, for friction shapes the soul.”
And how oft that proverb takes its toll;
I heard it once, and still it haunts my breast,
A ghostly bell that grants no hour of rest
I see the sunbound gather… laughing, living, running free!
Their blood, their bond, their tender mirth
’Tis warmth, not echo,
that keeps the sunbound company
But my tender dawn, how lone it was.
I, firstling and dawn of our line, without a hand because
My father often fled to distances unseen,
My mother locked behind her somber screen
So when no sunbound voice came forth, no gentle plea,
I spoke unto myself, and learned
’Tis echo, echo, echo
must keep a nightborne company!
O nightborne heart, how strangely thou wast cast!
Half-shaped by yearning, half by seasons past;
While sunbound root in gardens soft and warm,
The nightborne sprout in quiet afterstorm.
And though I walked beside them, O! they never looked to me!
For light sees light, but shadows hide
And echo, faithful echo,
still keeps the nightborne company!
O fate! O form! O mournful symmetry!
What worlds divide the sunbound soul and me.
For they have hearth and brother-laughter’s grace
And I have only twilight for my place.
Yet in that dimness, something stirs, a fierce fidelity,
A truth the sunbound never learn:
O echo! echo! echo!
Forever keep the nightborne company.
Dec 7, 2025
Dec 7, 2025 at 4:15 PM UTC
O, mark the chasm wrought in mortal clay
Between the sunbound, bright as dawning day,
And we, the nightborne, children of the hush,
Who learn our steps beneath the evening’s blush
The sunbound call to one another… lo! their harmony!
But shadows cradle nightborne hearts;
’Tis echo, echo, echo
that keeps the nightborne company!
They cry, “Behold, for friction shapes the soul.”
And how oft that proverb takes its toll;
I heard it once, and still it haunts my breast,
A ghostly bell that grants no hour of rest
I see the sunbound gather… laughing, living, running free!
Their blood, their bond, their tender mirth
’Tis warmth, not echo,
that keeps the sunbound company
But my tender dawn, how lone it was.
I, firstling and dawn of our line, without a hand because
My father often fled to distances unseen,
My mother locked behind her somber screen
So when no sunbound voice came forth, no gentle plea,
I spoke unto myself, and learned
’Tis echo, echo, echo
must keep a nightborne company!
O nightborne heart, how strangely thou wast cast!
Half-shaped by yearning, half by seasons past;
While sunbound root in gardens soft and warm,
The nightborne sprout in quiet afterstorm.
And though I walked beside them, O! they never looked to me!
For light sees light, but shadows hide
And echo, faithful echo,
still keeps the nightborne company!
O fate! O form! O mournful symmetry!
What worlds divide the sunbound soul and me.
For they have hearth and brother-laughter’s grace
And I have only twilight for my place.
Yet in that dimness, something stirs, a fierce fidelity,
A truth the sunbound never learn:
O echo! echo! echo!
Forever keep the nightborne company.
