Dream me a candle, resting with the nightingale, her patchwork perfect eyes

Glowering lowly, soft and sweet under black rift, set with onyx and brazen spires

This singing crow, calls out in lingering murmurs, dull with distance and attention

Candles burn, wax cascades as angel's wings, sing no more nightingale.


Dream me a candle, warring with the wealth of stars, gold glittering still

As daylight, spears of lightning under grey soaked sky, shields of cold earth

These hungering stars, clash with noble redress, sharp as heartfelt steel

Candles burn, wax cascades as seraph wings, war no more fitful stars.


Dream me a candle, weeping as a newborn son, heart beating tremulously

The tide beckons, salt and sand from painted eyes, the way is lost

This crying son, calls out in pale screams, pained with loss and frightful cries

Candles burn, wax cascades as cherub's wings, weep no more firstborn son.



Dream me a candle, blind with all the fire wanting, blossom into rays of light

Blazing brightly, chorus and cymbals in the air, broad with warmth and sunset

This wanton pyre, calls out in wild fits, bold with ambition and severity

Candles burn, wax cascades as His own wings, shine no more envious flame.