On a cold dark night a figure stood,
Pale face shrouded in darkened hood,
Statuesque, as though carved from wood;
No beauty held the night sky.
As pale as soapstone, his damp cold skin,
No breath to see nor heartbeat within,
A tear rolled down from cheek to chin;
To stand alone and cry.
The sobbing, such a sorrowful tune,
Witnessed only by the resolute moon,
Release he wished and ever so soon
From the curse of eternal life.
Promise of paradise had been a lie,
The price he'd paid, his soul to die,
No more could he take, the end was nigh;
Stood on the edge as sharp as a knife.
To see the sunrise once more to bloom,
Rising from the darkness gloom,
And bring an end to immortal June;
He wished for merciful release.
No more prison of endless night,
From obsidian black to ethereal white,
Bathed in morning’s pure glorious light,
Go forth and find your peace.
