Ours is a love that won't be bound
It rests in the dust and underground
Ours is a truth no truth has spoken
Ours is a bond, neither strong or incomplete
Loves faithful angels
Sing devils to their sleep.
To hold a dignity so solid
Yours is a coat that never turns
You'll be the moonlit Berlin air
The whisper I thought I heard
You're the candle to light the stairs
To be solemnly spoken
Take the splinters from my hand
To be a twilight broken
To the ethers overhead
Ours is the daylight dying, where the dawn completes the dusk
Ours is the sacred and chase,
Chrysthanthemum and musk
Be the garden, shrouded mystery
And ours will be unspoken
Ours will be the promise,
© Copyright 2016 Methelusa. All rights reserved.
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