Waking

When the wind whispers past silence's sieves
and the heart smiles in content sleep
When stars do burdens lighten
And naught but love the mind believes
Shall come the strains of lament
As the makers violins weep - in coda

With a flash of searing fire shall the sword of truth be drawn
from the velvet scabbard of lies and guise
Its jagged rust biting deep the ripe womb of dream
And the strangled mouth of the unborn babe
Pay its tribute in blood and tears
To the waking cold...