Seconds in Eternity

-Celtic Moon-

A masquerade should do wonders for the weary and treacherous doubt,
But mysteries of the bountiful fruits dare not opt out.

Wake the gentle soul that heeds this dream,

Blessed with hopes that grandeur and glorify her beam.

Make render the quintessence that once was a new,
Pray she may discover a love that is ceaseless and true.

Tally her mistrials of silver starlight and the voyage of the forsaken,
Hold thy breath and merge into her world of her heart mistaken.

Fantastical journeys may take fold: leaving hungers and her passions,
While eternity quakes: slaughtering emotions crave savage rations.

Pain stalks her mirage dripping gores of glue intertwined into tears,
A losing smile strikes eager dagger of sadness that she fears.

And a masquerade should do wonders for the weary and treacherous doubt,
But mysteries of the bountiful fruits dare not opt out.

Wake the gentle soul that heeds this dream,
Blessed with hopes that grandeur and glorify her beam.