prophecy-hair

The Lost Son | 2016

As the rain gently falls
and the sparrows are calling,
I sit, and I sing of a moon’s lullaby.

As the sun rests,
and the moon awakens,
I hear a gentle whisper,
as soft as snow falling.

Oh far, oh far
Have you traveled, my son.
Rest your head on my pillow of sigh,
and weep no longer for the worries of the sky.

For as long as the rain gently falls,
And the sparrows are calling,
I will sit, and I will sing, of a moon’s lullaby
That cradles the ones,
with the blood red eyes…


He could not have known they sung of him.

-

(Didn’t reference her art or anything but unintentionally inspired/influenced by @jodeeeart, hahah!)