2I see the dunes of sand,
And all those demons of the soul
Are at the sky's command.
But soon the shroud of night shall fall,
And then my weary eyes
Will be beset by weighted lids,
And thought will thereto rise.
That hour long shall fall too short.
Life never could match whim,
And as it tries, we yet despair
And fall still far more grim.
Then the blinding lights emerge,
And we are forced to see
The myriads of hopeless ships
Upon the hopeless sea.
Upon the decks of those great ships,
There stands a curséd crew.
They are men whose souls escaped
When sunlight their eyes slew.
I find myself among their ranks,
And I cannot contend
The ancient will that plagues my mind,
The solitairy rend.
But then the shadows of the night
Will wrap themselves around
My withered body and my mind,
As sanities resound.
The world will once again be good,
Illusion will then reign,
And all the joys of all the world
Will surface from the pain.
Value is as one would set.
Those luxuries are damned,
For all of them are kin to pain,
Born at its just hand.
The hopeless sea far sight exceeds,
But we cannot despair.
There is peace to yet be had
If we should hold it fair.