As I draw up my breath
And silver fills my eyes
I kiss her still
For she will never rise
On my weak body
Lays her dying hand
Through those meadows of Heaven
Where we ran
Like a thief in the night
The wind blows so light
It wars with my tears
That won't dry for many years
"Love's golden arrow
At her should have fled
And not Death's ebon dart
To strike her dead"
The Manuscript
The Manuscript
Roads
The Isis Script
The Light at the End of the World
The Wreckage Of My Flesh
The Old Earth
The Distance, Busy With Shadows
The Solace
The Grief Of Age
The Lies I Sire
The Sexuality Of Bereavement
The Stance Of Evander Sinque
The Scarlet Garden
The Prize Of Beauty
The Dreadful Hours
The Raven And The Rose
The Child Of Eternity
The Burning Coast Of Regnum Italicum
The Blood, The Wine, The Roses