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I soft pastel portals glimmer,
silver light gently shimmer
Souls of seasons command
the blending of the artist's hand

Strokes of sunlight brushed within
Twilight grows so very dim, but all is well
The agony of loneliness silently swells
Do we know the voice of freedoms pride
It whispers by the mountainside

Rosy bush or scarlet hedge
meets the living, and soothes the dead
Weep not for faded oils, that rises from
Stained soils, my life will simmer to a boil
My soul will know no toil
you will lift above the crowded, sights
A soothe the ache of lamented night

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Lamented Night