Glass memories rot,
Forests forgotten, dreams are not,
The wind once blew, a colder colour hue,
A hyaline cognizance, swept in to a faster dance...
Around and around, these cinders blow,
Spitting ash, jade moons have grown,
Something wakes, something deep,
Left behind, silent forests weep.
No amount of tears will put out your fire,
Left all alone, you'll burn until you expire.