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Days once so long are now dwarfed.
Time I thought to be immortal,
Now slain by cold hands,
Oh how missed you shall be.

Once so abundant, I sought means to squander.
Yet now to every falling grain,
Fleeting and distant,
I cling for the very life I hated.

Oh how I would die if you could only be kind.
My beating heart would be still,
If only your step would slow!
Have you no concept of anything?
The heart, the body, and the mind,
You trample three in benevolent will,
Yet you leave but a cold woe!
Is it that which you so desire in early evening?

Cold hands of burning fate,
Are they not thine own?
Or am I just a fool,
Lost and forsaken to hate,
That with which I could have flown,
And now am only to regret as a broken tool?

Oh, but now to return,
Once more back to which I began,
And to which I should have been bound.
The time's turned to ash within a celestial urn,
Yet still I choose to blindly cling an'
With wishing hands I am search for that which cannot be found.

Time's passing, in me has wrought,
A cold a barren truth, the death I see.
Alone and lost I'll be to an end,
Lest now my path I amend.
It is without time and within me,
that I must now seek what none hath sought.

This quest on which I now embark,
Is one on which I hope none will be my successor,
For, by my hands, long hours will be made mean.
Then, within the early morning's dark,
I return to my chambers only long enough to reach the door,
Before I am once more to depart and replay the scene.

Thirteen hours long,
Now as it stands,
Twenty two is what needs to be,
Nine is not so wrong,
As to break all my lands.
But, rather I should take them with glee!

With the shortening of time,
I can attain all that I lack,
And take from this world that which is mine!
And with the sun's warm and gently shine,
I'll tear apart these heavy clouds of black!
I'll not stop until the bells chime!

Once free of my oppressor,
I'll return my time to its original monotony.
But I fear this time shall challenge my love,
For my time with her is already sparse.
But should our connection illuminate my darkness,
I shall reign victorious over my strife,
And I'll be swift to make her my happy wife.
But should this trial make our bond to become less,
Then I'll shout till I go hoarse,
Shout out a curse to the world above,
For it is then that a synonym of impossible becomes matrimony.
In that dark hour, I'll be resolute, and slay my core.

The hours, so long and harsh,
Must become even worse,
So that time can come to be,
A fragile and renewed force.
Only with this new birth of strength,
May I begin once more to march.
And should I fail, falling into a hearse,
May the earth be quick to claim me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Across Death's threshold together we dance,
You cloaked in the glow of a life pure and radiant,
And I in the colours of the night.
Together we waltz to the songs of a thousand birds,
It was there in my dreams I saw it all come true.

Oh the noble serenade of the Morning Lark,
His majestic voice lifts us to our feet.
The chords spin a celestial scene.

The Doves begin their prelude,
They carry our dancing hearts across these ephemeral heavens.
The tune paints a starlit portrait.

Sparrows chime a happy minuet,
Their fluttering melody is a soothing rest in movement.
The harmony weaves a net of superior safety.

Lasting to the darkness, Ravens doll a haunting nocturne,
Their notes weigh upon the souls of man,
The melody ends this passionate feeling.

Under the weight of the Raven's Nocturne, I fall.
Unable to cling to the celestial tapestry,
I descend to the world that hates me so.

But you, cloaked in your purity, you are not weighed by the Raven's song.
Their melody means nothing to you,
And you watch in horror as I fall.

I would pray that you be strong enough in that hour,
As to sever the ties so I may not drag My Angel to her death.
Yet it would be impossible, for you had promised not to let me go,
So it is with a sad smile that I would change my prayers.
May I be heavy enough to land first and spare you the killing edge of Terra Firma's kiss.

May it then become true, to the ages that come,
That lovers may dance the heavens,
And never suffer a worldly death.
My Angel, and my love,
Come, for the Morning Lark beckons.