There hangs a skillfully carved
Crescent of a moon upon
A silver string that is tied off
Somewhere beyond that place
Where wretched reality stops and
The essence of a dream begins
Where the invisible forms
Of wistful giants stroll around the
Vibrant center of the universe

The moon floats in a
Frozen lake of solitude
Like a crystal eye that keeps
Vigil before the darkness
Its chalky face is glistening
Not marred like ours
Save for the etchings of words
That were spoken at the moment
When the somber director signaled
For time to begin

Cynical crows laugh sardonically
And fly at the atmosphere
And bicentennial trees reach down
Half-heartedly with their roots
And hooded spirits pace through
Fields of paper flowers
And what's left of life drips
Slowly into an endless chasm

There is a forgotten station
That is fading away
Bombarded by celestially tragic
Drops of rain
It sends off weeping trains that
Leave red petals in their wake
Each one disappearing into
That unreachable horizon

From a good walking distance
Away from that world
It has a mien that resembles
Sadly true philosophy

For although a circle of dreams
Is the most beautiful
It can even bring a crystal tear
To the sober seraph's eye

For places like this place
For dreams like this dream
It is with regret and
With a retired sigh
That one must give
His heartfelt goodbye