The fire dies, the canvas black
is dusted by white embers.
Songs that men will never sing
voiced by celestial members.

Mother's whispers drifting through
arms stretched forth unto the sky.
Promises are made anew.
Spirits lifted, ne'er to die.

Lovers cry into the night.
Vessel for the spirit made.
Yesterday gives up its ghost.
Life in everlasting trade.

Like a gift, her wrappings shed,
velvet skin in moonlight.
Veil of silk upon her head.
Joyous heart takes flight.

Solace in the sweet embrace,
of the wilds lost to man.
Rapture's crimson paints her face,
untouched by time's hand.

Mother's child, as when born,
sways amid the shadows cast,
offers her love until morn'.
Canvas burns away at last.