| Portrayals of her face
|
| Feeble scents of her perfume
|
| blended with putrefaction
|
| and miasma. |
| Delight to me
|
| I bleed affection for her
|
| My kindred spirit and companion
|
| Passion pure, rapture and dearth
|
| If I could I would kiss her again
|
| She dreams alone
|
| on antediluvian shores
|
| In the outmost reaches
|
| of wisdom and time
|
| In my mind, there is hope
|
| that she shall rise up
|
| from the ashes like a Phoenix
|
| And that neither space nor death
|
| will separate us anymore
|
| Indistinct is her presence
|
| Yet somehow, still there
|
| In my dreams she whispers
|
| of images, tangible and profound
|
| We can but live this illusion
|
| An ocean of dreams betwixt
|
| Sentenced to solitude
|
| but together, we still dwell
|
| Despondently, my lifelong love
|
| will dwell in aeons of dreams evermore
|
| Let it be known that it is she that feeds my heartbeats
|
| that now are slowing down
|
| Oh, she dreams alone
|
| on shores, antediluvian
|
| In the reaches of wisdom and time
|
| Yet in my mind, there is still hope
|
| that she one day shall rise up like a Phoenix
|
| And that neither space nor death
|
| will separate us
|
| For my heart is growing weaker by the minute
|
| And this illusion cannot feed my desire forever
|
| I have no tears left, as I now leave my body
|
| And together we may wander these shores |