Like the sands, I shift under your weight.
Just a whisper away, I can hear your voice.
I am bound to your howling, Moonchild.
I will listen without choice.
Goddess born. Strayed.
Fire consumed. Yet I stay.
Hidden in a sylvan glory, I wonder if I still exist.
Lost in these grey forests, the bark pallid in color.
Charcoal. Silver. Pearl. Blanched.
I am lost in this wooded mirror.
True to form, my love.