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A vast and vacant vale Ornated with haxe-veiled sylvan lakes Wherein aught dive straight Wor-begone shadows and nocturnal fays Oh pure primeval gate O'er grand piny mountains thou wait 'Neath the night's queen face I wonder at the infinite space... Caught in marble cold, crowned with a aurecle of livid flame Veiled by fragile silks, naked she stands in the garden of grief Distant thunders break whilst she weeps for the hustling flurry And as the wind arrives I cling to her eloquent cold skin and sigh The moon became my heart, pulsing the silver blood of thine A new eyeless sight thou givest mee to admire a world sans light Nightwards I sweep by the purest catharsis, the divinity of silence A rapture so cold...obscure in melancholic sublimity From Letras Mania