A vast and vacant vale
Ornated with haze-veiled sylvan lakes
Wherein aught dive straight
Woe-begone shadows and nocturnal fays
Oh pure primeval gale
O'er grand piny mountains thou wait
'Neath the night's queen face
I wonder at the infinite space...


Caught in marble cold, crowned with an aureole of livid flame
Veiled by fragile silks, naked she stands in the garden of grief
Distant thunders break whilst she weeps for the hustling flurry
And as the wind arrives I cling to her eloquent cold skin and sigh...
The moon became my heart, pulsing the silver blood of thine
A new eyeless sight thou givest mee to admire a world sans light
Nightwards I sweep by the purest catharsis, the divinity of silence
A rapture so cold...obscure in melancholic sublimity