Obsidian

The nebula and blackbird all fade in the petals

The streaks of dawn eclipsed the crimson clouds

The sun has fallen and sheds its silver tears 

Returning to the black haven of infinite night

Claiming revenge for the moon's sour stare

Resurrecting the feelings of archaic notions

Behind the wall of the silver oceans

The shining piece comes forward and unravels

The cottons have been reduced to a pile of blue

The writers pause to see the perpetual stars

Climaxing in a finale of explosion and light

Recollecting the lampshade and its ghostly glare

Beckoning to the god in the rain

With no sense of pain

Corners fold and ceilings shake

The windows emit the reflecting lake

The halls have shattered and the walls are torn

An infant of the winds has been born

As the moon kisses the mountain

The sun sits by the shore

The children dance macabre

The poet wishes for more

The words have become cliched

As a moment is but a day

The crimson has turned to white

The sorrow drifts away

And the runners all join in the sphere

The creator by the sand sheds his tear

As dawn draws near

Along the crystal pier

The lovers watch the sunrise in the clear