A dream or reality?

A figure in this night,
calls out loves only name,
''leave it be'' the night will whisper,
and let them rest in shame.

Come close towards the face,
and catch a tear of sorrow,
then fall upon the ground,
which holds our last tomorrow.

In a garden so cold and bare,
where only the stones behold a name,
and the souls that linger there,
sink slowly into pain.

risen on a sunset,
a dream is dead in time,
the ends are whithered quickly,
on this crimson blood-red vine.

Hold the hands of wisdom,
and set the angels free,
forgiveness will be granted,
and releases life in me.