I walked alone to the end of a lonely road,
And stood there waiting within the darkness.
The moon above glowed with a ghost like pallor,
She looked haunted, and insane.
I reached my hand towards the heavens and tried to touch her,
She was always just out of reach.
I suffered with the realization that there was something,
Which I could not attain.
I stood there at the end of that road,
Wondering where I should go from there.
I remembered the first time that I had seen her,
The first time that I had witnessed the blessed, morbidity of the moon.
I was lying in my bed, planning the end of it all, and there she was.
Dressed in a gossamer gown of start dust.
She crept slowly into my midst; spread herself out like a flood of
Translucent specters dancing on the air…
The particles of night pervaded throughout my mind,
And I was overcome by this unrelenting sense of doom.
I knew from that point, that there was no going back,
I knew then that I would be given no second chance.
The end was far too permanent for me to defile,
So I thought I might wait, and stay here for another night.
Which brought me now to this lonely place,
To which my end has since forebode.
And I knew that I would soon turn away,
The end had not yet come.