The dead sky
The sky is raven black,
The light has gone,
Eagerly we wait for the dawn,
It seems as if, surely,
It will not transpire,
And deep within us we feel the long,
For the light of hope and valiance and peace,
the light that shed some guidance when the need was dire,
But beneath the drak glint of unfathomable, vast, lands,
Abyssal ancient pools of stirring powers and forces gives hand,
To spin the world into life,
Wherefore the sky bleads red blood,
And orange seeps slowly in,
Until the swirling colors,
Thrust away black sin,
And even as the world grows duller,
A wistfull thought envelopes hooting heads,
Despite the joy and wonder brought,
It will soon befall us again.
The light has gone,
Eagerly we wait for the dawn,
It seems as if, surely,
It will not transpire,
And deep within us we feel the long,
For the light of hope and valiance and peace,
the light that shed some guidance when the need was dire,
But beneath the drak glint of unfathomable, vast, lands,
Abyssal ancient pools of stirring powers and forces gives hand,
To spin the world into life,
Wherefore the sky bleads red blood,
And orange seeps slowly in,
Until the swirling colors,
Thrust away black sin,
And even as the world grows duller,
A wistfull thought envelopes hooting heads,
Despite the joy and wonder brought,
It will soon befall us again.
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