I dream of fog Lifted to my sight, Stilled in my bed As I am, Lost in the dream of burial, There is a face that does not look back. It sinks With me, in its arms, Away to the moon, away to mourn The love of a departed figure Who stood there within the mist, Dancing and resplendent. My eyes are of drear, My wings shed more tears Than feathers. I speak, though I do not hide The messages that come From outside. They whisper in elegant tunes, Famous sonnets, Nocturnal arias, Blown from mouths, like wind that gusts The flag from being buried In my hands. I feel the Hell on Earth, I feel Heaven's new rebirth. I feel morning in a different way That merely goes to say, "Nothing in the world can end this way Without a breath to hold, a breath to stay." Your leaves hold candles, As your candles leave trails In shadows, in phantoms From passages written in old tomes. I am the one without cause, Without birth. Beauty shows its worth In the love one dies for.