I've become a dream of death
Where death is but a dream;
Where darkness hides and surely rides
Upon its secret gleam;
Where dreams be told,
Grow never old,
Look so weak,
But really bold;
Where stars collapse into a world
Where angels' wings have once unfurled,
Rewarding them with nature's light
To comfort them all through the night.

I've become a hollow thing
Where wholeness is a lie.
Oh, what sleeps inside the empty shell,
Where I fear I have died?
When beauty's somber,
Last it longer?
Does it leave the world
Forever wronger?
Does it twinkle to the eye?
Does it dance, or does it sigh?
Does it watch over the brief respite
That comforts us in blackest night?