---

the cold water in which I stand
portrays the tears I once cried
I face a sunset of sweet sins
in a dusk of perishing hopes

I bear the shroud
that once warmed me
I bear a torn shroud
that now grieves with me

I wash my hands
with glory that once was
with might once shared
through my fingers it slips...
...alas...it slips...

blissful winds that covet me
offering wings of shining silk
they whisper to me
will you wait for the sun?

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