---

Who are you to judge
The things that I feel?
His burning touch
Is all that is real

And, standing there expressionless!
The statuesque form from the gaunt dimension

"I sleep here,
A realm of twilight
The haunting moon,
I mourn, despair
Every night I gaze
Into your depths
The waning moon,
I mourn, despair. "

Brief is the light of the passing dusk,
A dreary way to an unspoken path
The burning plight of the impending night
Awaiting us, soaring to darkening heights

Torn are trees in their swaying lust,
The elm tops tattered by the winds from the North
My firmament rent and broken in half
As LokI's bound onto the stone no more

"The citadels shall perish
Beneath my feet
No solitude in silence."

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