For all my fallen martyrs,
anon the moon weeps tears.
I am paramour to them all.
Upon winged nymph of old
I steal the glance of death.
I will mourn among the many.
Oh!, Wonder as light plays
If these that die shall see
again the tricks light doth play
amongst shadows, their falling tears.
A thousand songs sung wrong.
Still, each martyr heard the call
thinking still of hope anon
among shadows lurking in all -
the corridors where light is gone.
Walks down hollow halls,
bring no contentment as sun falls.
The wind is strong the shadow bright,
and so still the sun is painted black.
The last dead, and dissonace to dread.
In memory, of songs forgot.
Sing I, one last chord, as then
shadow turns to night.
The wind howls loud, and there
moon cries out for true light.
A thousand galaxy away the hope
of martyr shines thusly in some way.
Moon shifts brow to view such sight,
and dreams when man shall see
the light, in its martyred plight.
On earth, On earth, etched in time.
I beg, the land to bleed, and
waters of the shores to unabate.
The sun to wipe itself of shame,
so light will purify all again.
Purify all and transfigure shadow
quell fear with loved beauty
guide the cries to happy songs
mold anger into understanding,
and turn shadow to light.
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