Much sweeter than the sunrise,
such sadness as the grayest skies.
From pitch of wombs
through the black of tombs,
guided by the lights of moons.
Without way of knowing,
while uncertainty growing.
In volume her silence spoke,
evoked chills of which no hand hath wrote.
‘Twas I who awoke when dreams gave you a shake;
though you helped me through, to which no time to thank.
So how am I to carry on?
To carry this song, to sing it along.
You’ve gone and left an empty room,
blackened by an eerie gloom.
As I hold hope with all I have,
for I was told this too shall pass,
that nothing earthly ever lasts..
..and may you serve to remind,
to rewind to much better time.
Now go ahead this path of mine.
Keep the trail smooth, and its road kind.
I’ll see you at the end of time.