Wiping the dew from her whitered eye,
She looks beyond the cresent skys,
Looks upon the blue-steel mane,
The third eye unfocused by lies,
To spend so many years in question.
But kind, the storm, was unknown,
She placed her hand into the shadow,
To dream forth the tail of darkness,
And open the eye of smoke and reason,
The face hidden by the amber,
To draw forth the crystal sword.
Three warm and wild eyes,
Rising up and pacing the planes,
Of amber shaded cresent darkness,
She crawls forward within season,
To remember a silver plated time,
Of her life and shadden dream.
Grateful it was over, run away,
From the crystal swords suggest,
The eyes then seem so familiar,
Glad to view you, plated being,
Thee blood armor of the past,
To shatter your scales they say.
To view your here once again,
No time left treasure was her dream.
The broken sword beyond reason,
Run, from the scattered vessel,
Nothing left inside to question,
Her withered eye alone to scream.