Here, I live
in the spirit realms 
of the disenchanted		

I can only dream

under the night stars
upon this ethereal sea
with spirits kindred
of moments unspeakably beautiful
ghostlike, almost real

with all the vision and inspiration
of a lifetime
but lacking warmth
the gentle touch
the whispered word of solace

our dreams are not of the cold earth
they are born of blood and tears
melancholy and sadness
longing and regret

woven into an ethereal tapestry
with kindred souls who were Forsaken,
forgotten, cast aside
who bled in vain

our dreams haunt the world 
and drive the mad sane.