There’s no stone not lain
By sweet hands to beg of
There’s no hope to question why
So in a palace dim
There are worlds pouring in
And stones
Never lie
Dew cries
What you make now has made me
What you cry out of late has
Become dungeons in the will
Of the wrecked
So don’t alter These times
Don’t ever utter the sweet lies
For in rapture are you found again
And souls shatter like clay
But never in dire ways
See, the sun is bored with the sky
That’s why
Why
It sought you
And nothing is changed
Yet the light here is strange
And the haunting refrain
Screams out, out, out
At the curious chooser
The obscure means of closure
Are kept open by swift hands and strife
Such beauty in a life
Such valour in the night
What honour could reside
In the hall of the palest light?