Erisiptolis
Font of wisdom
Let us sing of a gift where blindly
Drawn to it
As with flame is a moth
Let your eyes feast on the fine cloth
Spring-time waters shining still
Underneath the bitter trees I feel
Overwhelmed to see my face
Reflected
By the beauty of this lake
I lay silent and awake
Gaze at her artful way
Scenes of wonder to portray
With no words left to say
Felt by beauty swept away
Gaze at her artful way
Scenes of wonder to portray
Threads of life turn to grey
In this mirror of decay
Isolate from reality
She reflects on what life is meant to be
A mortal body with grace of God
Lying on a bed of moss
Of my figure
I can't bear the loss
Waiting here in solitude
Reflected
Under moonlight
Softly played my own fatal serenade
Gaze at her artful way
Scenes of wonder to portray
With no words left to say
Felt by beauty swept away
Gaze at her artful way
Scenes of wonder to portray
Threads of life turn to grey
In this mirror of decay
Mesmerised
Down to my dying day
In hollow light
Gaze at her artful way
Scenes of wonder to portray
With no words left to say
Felt by beauty swept away
Gaze at her artful way
Scenes of wonder to portray
Threads of life turn to grey
In this mirror of decay
At my life's end
My everlasting scent
