The poet is old, wrinkled She sleeps after her Life-long dreams Head sunk into the cooling sand As the waves of paradise Wash over her, cleanse her In the moonlight, her body is lit And behind those green eyes Lie memories Engraved onto her canvas of stars Lyrael Myrna revealed Etched into the sky Now the secrets are No longer sealed She sleeps in the haze Between worlds For a moment contemplating Reality- that stark crude reality How it feels to be torn Between land and sea The murky, dancing waters And the fruitful, hopeless ground Both cold and yet forgiving Lyrael Myrna has been forgiven But forgotten like the ancients The tired weak old being Only turned seventeen Still it seems to be a trap- so young and yet so old She is going nowhere 'Lets order a new mould! ! ' Change the old beginnings Start her on some love Take all the winnings Encase her with the Dove
Rain begins to tap On her eyelids, nose and face Freezing winter particles Offer some escape Now she is- Facing the fact She lives a lie Facing her failure Facing her loneliness Old, wrinkled in the sinking sand
The poet smiles Lyrael Myrna etched Into the sand Only now, no longer torn Between sea and land
Her promise was made Lullabies sung A nightwish will fade Just like everyone
Etched into the sky Etched into the night Sleep will give us rest and won't give up....
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