Nightwish

Pale moon..vague impression of a withered countenance...

Subtle drain - the emotions of her ubiquous solitude

Indent the purplish reflection of oceanic depth

With the ephemeral spark of a rebel tear

Colliding...another brick of Apollo's burden,

Anxiously heading towards the restful cloudy dwelling,

Contemplating the pieces of her mind displayed on the mystical parchment...

The fall becomes testimony of a nightwish,

A sacred oath whispered with the candour of the breeze

"Farewell, Misfortune, as I once named this cursed scenario,

May that your rash collapse convert tomorrow into eternity...

Almighty Queen whom God charged as guardian of solitary dark hours,

That with your chaste rays penetrate the cache of myself and others,

I now beseech your symapathy towards the ashes of a human being

Deadly wounded...no longer breathing, she blindly entrusts her soul..."

Nevertheless, a voice emerges from within...

"Merrily would I leave this tangible self,

Unless frightful thoughts possessed my spirit,

That like autumnal leaves so will my name become a distant whisper

And all remembrances will chaotically start to fall...

Oblivion does not deserve the treasure of Old Time,

Ungrateful offsprings of the past that do not praise their father now and ever,

Inheritants of glory, they foolishly assert their name will last,

Among the remnants of their ancestors whom they buried without worry...

I do not beg for such an honour,

Yet seeing how the ages drain their tears is sheer regret,

As nothing but the coldest grave reminds them of a stranger sorrow,

And photographs are burnt - those visual memories are not a threat...

There is nothing I fear most than being dust and weed,

Therefore I now confess my vanity envies your pure serenity,

For my estinguishment is present or a finite multiple,

And that is why I will forever hanker your eternity..."