Upon what lonely star thy gaze is writ
Behind what clouds, or what, in dead of night
Moveth through the trees by moonlight lit
With monstrous beauty, racing like the blight
Of lovers strewn beneath the empty skies
Below the fresh and frothing hell that burns
Through time's blank pages, echoing the cries
Of infant souls stuck, screaming from the urns
Within which their cursed memory is kept
By blind and blessed mourners, holding tight
To endless nothing, souring the light
Upon which, from the heavens once was swept
Forgotten glory, lost unflinching eyes
Riding like a plague upon the skies
Crashing like a dream into the world
With awesome, long black sails unfurled
There, and only there, may spirits wake
To thine soft shapeless beauty, and remake
This unreal place, with glowing hands alike
And, only there, may lost souls pass the night.