Isn't it romantic
To see the pale,
Silvery comfort
Of the moonlight istelf?
Derogatory terms
Decide too many subconscious phrases,
Settle on too many conflicting songs
Of broken desire and washed up moans.
Rusty shades of dying leaves
Always turn greener
In the darkest of the nights.
Even when the moon shines brighter
Than the morning rise
Of the mighty Sun.
All nature takes a slippery image
Of shifting colors under breathless wind,
And rolling stars
Over a mangled string.
Muted words echo,
In the restless of the Restful Night,
Scarring the endless chaos
As the deepest form of fright.
Smoke blows cover
For words I do not speak,
And the wind spreads the mutter
Of the biggest eyes that never blink.
After countless warm nights,
And many bright encounters,
I salute your leave
With a hand over my shoulder,
Another above my heart,
A warm tear slowly shedding
As I stay still in the dark.
I am mortal,
You were not.
Your Royal presence could be felt
From the moment we first met.
May God bless you,
Or whatever's up above,
And may Hades send your spirit
To the calming realms of Elysium itself.
Unless you choose rebirth,
To conquer what was lost.
In which case I greatly wish
We meet again,
My lovely Ghost.
