The past has been sealed,
in the stained land of melancholy.
How long since I last heard thee,
yet how your music again engulfs me!
Dared I not to intrude your grace,
for the fear of my amethyst heart.
Yet here I am enclosed by your dream,
on this earth I live, in the heavens I chart.
Alone the poet in his midnight blue,
raining crystal bells on a weeping stream.
Dispirited streetlight a friend in the snow,
walking the pages of the idiot’s woe.
Folding waves of ballroom visits,
his majestical figure cannot be embraced.
Serenade Melancholia of lifeless tears,
a darkened fireplace in the ethereal cold.
