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In Broken Images
Grotesque fairyland - astray
with fine falling snow this myth now melts away
through bloody archways it flows upstream to see
this heartache parching me
it burns my gaiety, taking down it's golden mask
my tears ooze away on drifting soil
Through peace i stride and flee
your musing thoughts caressed by fear
i hear some nightingales, they sing
my withered dreams to heal
beauty's rose should never die
my grief lies onward, joy behind
nature calls it to be gone
so tired with my woe...
storm gusts of winter's day
for restful death i beg
ere that sun does wake
drown my sins, black memory!
freezing have i felt, what dark days seen,
in sleep a king
mounted on the wind your bareness
comes to touch the seals
never resting time leads summer on,
my heart is slain
within this wound which iron did impress
there will a river whispering run
the very birds are mute,
they dread the winter's near
their sighs, they wet my eyes
drown my world with weeping earnesty
too hot the eye of heaven shined
anon the tunnel i will find
praise deep vermilion in the rose
what tree or stone does want a soul?
light, thy picture in my sight
it's held within his hands
it's grounded in my heart
disguised in prial veils
morning-shadows wear away
how many mornings hav i seen?
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