Why twilight bares no scars of the
bleeding sky, I'd like to know;
how a grand departure, of beauty such,
wields not a wound of it to show
of what had been so bright,
so blazon but a moment just before,
leaves no trace nor tell; and thus,
what was once, is now no more.
Though so fortunate, for the sky it seems,
only but one night does it need yearn,
for when the stars' bright shine grow dim
amidst the horizon, comes sun's return.
If only was I so lucky
to need but wait one single night,
when I'd gladly wait a thousand and one
to have you once more in my sight.
Hell,
I'd make a ladder and climb the night,
I'd reach the stars and turn them out.
I'd do much and more rather than live
in a world of light, with you without.
