The Waning Paroles

These eyes have wept torrents of tears,

The sense of wonder slowly seeping away.

The love that embodied this false serenity

Was no more tragic than my own illusion.

The call beyond the veil, from the orchards of limbs

And gently violent spirals, where thoughts are born

You possess the answer to it all!

A soul on the wane, that is the price of life,

For I will come to you, ultimately alone.