While the sun, distant but warm,
And the moon, quiet and cool,
The waters beneath revive,
Memories, bitter and cruel
Pulling with wild currents,
In directions unintended,
As a lost soul hungers—
Of stories that have long ended
To awaken from a tenebrous slumber,
Of truths dimmed in figments of imagination,
In a whirlpool of early lies—
And of first understandings in relation
To long and lonely nights,
Of empty and unrequited love,
A sweet little child is left,
Only with ghosts and the stars above