Torn eyes and bleeding tears,
Torturous smiles and gentle fears,
The brightness of our shadowy past,
A wind that blows to ever-last.
We'll have a rendezvous by the stars,
And we'll hope their light will cure our scars,
Brighter than the sunset are the moon's eyes,
The brown mist sparks mine to realize.
A white streak on your hair to mark the cold,
But it'll darken again when we have both grown old,
A smile on your lips to spark a startling light,
Burning strong enough to stop the concrete night.
Paint the face of the mountain's tip,
On the canvas's horizon lip,
To mark the hero's climb into the sky,
Struck quick are the violins to sigh.
Lost within a rhyme's scheme set to soar,
Losing consiousness forevermore,
Still with foreshadow you insinuate,
You're not the path to heaven's gate.
