Despondent dream weaver
Mead of life
The healer
Despondent dream weaver
Upon the meadow lies the flute
Waiting for a treat from her lips
Dawn has descended on this unfortunate pursuit
As there won’t be any friendships
The phoenix flies above the mead
Not knowing of the coming blaze
The tears can’t heal her own wound
The prayers can’t rejoin the pathways
The meadow is cold of coming storm
And the lady is lost in vast plains
She founds the flute but doesn’t plays
And the mighty sky ruthlessly rains
"Doesn’t matter if she doesn’t blow a note
Music is not in my mind now“
Calls the phoenix not to heal his wound
But to help the lady somehow
Flute and phoenix start to burn
to make the lady safe and warm
Fire bird will return from the ashes
but the flute evanesced in the rainstorm
@loner
