On a pale halo moon day,
With lips of lily blue.
As the birds slept in their nested loops,
And bustling bees go silent too.
The tranquil stream seems so standstill,
Conducting an ocean wave,
Throned with drowning tears apart,
Caskets sailing like a trail.
A cloud that trembles in the dark,
Terror in the grave.
Estranged, disintegrated and lost,
Lay a body of steel and flame.
To drink from the deep mystic mug,
Death bows his head and cries.
To mark a stone in ferocity,
From the jaws of monstrous sight.