My poet's heart, you are robbed of sleep

Why are you troubled wandering heart?

Beneath the sky, the waves are hasting

Emerald masses of water shattering,

the sandcastles made with your stained hands

Uncertain storm clouds mighty in their stupedious power

Destroying the merry swing on which I dreamingly wail

Is there a craven mirage hundreds of miles away?

The black piano keys play timid, lamenting the fondly freamed

 discoloring days, clamouring loudly and shrilly

looking for hope sparks and tints of heaven that

glisten comforting memories on my tearless eyes

My darling dear tonight,

 the sad moon mourns amongst the stars

bound together in the closest unison

 while our bleeding wounds stanch and stay

and raging sorrow weighs down our melodious lyre

and the innumerable cataracts of Earth’s fate

torment the whirlpool of our minds