• I.

    Calling out to me, beckoning me
    Is the night’s mournful song.
    And so drunk with the moonlight.
    I recklessly play along.
    Caught up in this joyous moment,
    And deaf for oh so long,
    I reach out; I cry out
    And dance to this glorious song.

    II.

    Dance! What a feral word that is!
    It swings and sways and hangs in time,
    Clinging to all it has ever touched.
    And in the midst of midnight, I stumble.
    So now those darkened stars do fly:
    The kiss my steps and swallow me whole.
    Now those motions are bound to time.

    III.

    But time is short and fades away,
    When touched by gentle hands of dust.
    And with phoenix tears it will rebirth,
    From ash to wing`ed cloud of lust.
    It flies upon the day so clear,
    And consumes all that we trust.
    In final flight it will disperse,
    And darkened stars cry tears of dust.

    IV.

    Those tears create a brilliant pool,
    And darkened stars it will consume.
    The dusty lake will turn to fire,
    From stars that bred such peril and doom.
    So when the mortals catch the flames
    Their minds will rot of chaotic fumes.
    Impending day will smother the heat
    That which no moonbeams can consume.

    V.

    So when these moonbeams fade away,
    And day is again restored,
    These stars will scream and flames evade
    Gentle hearts of shadows torn.
    And now we all forget out past
    To close that opened door.
    Our minds are rotten inside out.
    Once midnight returns, are memories restored?