Phantasmagoria

UNDER A MOONLESS NIGHT-SEDUCTIVE WHISPERS, UNTAMED WINDWRAITHS TEARING AT YOUR FABRIC,
RESONATING STRINGS DEEP INSIDE-WITH A LONGING SOUND, MOURNING AT THE THOUGHT OF FIRST LIGHT.
ISOLATION. WHEN THE LAST RAYS OF DAYLIGHT FLICKERS THROUGH THE TREES,
I SEE HER ONCE MORE, LIKE A FADING MEMORY I CANNOT REACH,
DANCING ACROSS THE PINE MOVING UNEARTHLYLIKE, INSIDE THE THEATRE OF MY MIND.