Oh, to die a death less valued
     Much that was once lost now lives
And yet, and yet...
     Here I find myself undone
By powers beyond my scope
     Such is my end.

Oh, such wonders wondered
     Living a life unloved
Waiting, waiting...
     A threat not voiced
Only spoken through silence
     A morning without sun.

Oh, what wroth hath writ
     Hope sharp as wit
Love a soft-spoke casualty
     Of a crushed and listing ship
Foundering on a shore
      This wielded weapon.

There he sits.
The moon is in the sky,
like clockwork.
His personality changed
from yesterday,
along with his clothes.
Tonight, he's draped in stars
and showing only a quarter
of his wonderful personality.
How humble he can be.
He's playing off the light
of the fireflies
like a violinist from a conductor.
Look at that...he's higher
than the shadow connected trees.
My old friend,
you have a flare for the dramatic.