The Waning - Krohm

These eyes have wept torrents of tears

The sense of wonder slowly seeping away

The love that embodied this false serenity

Was no more tragic than my own illusion

The call beyond the veil, from the orchards of limbs

And gently violent spirals, where thoughts are born

You possess the answer to it all!

A soul on the wane, that is the price of life

For I will come to you, ultimately alone