Black ink blooms, in cloudy fields of white; as my heart breaks asunder, five thousand miles removed.
I am the light that fell, through all the driving rain; it’s seen me walk the world alone, through endless eerie night. I have patrolled the border, between worlds long enough; to know that it was asked of me to endure and I must.
Though I seek to prevail, and I know that I shall; the ancient part of me is resigned to a melancholy. Sweet and oh so bitter, is the wisdom of sadness; the thread of this thing I’ve traced through a myriad of lives.
It’s tight across my chest, it clutches at my throat; it breaks me down and leaves me estranged, desperate for home.