A Bat'll Cry on Our Darkest Night

Love is the fountain of youth,

we were always that close to living forever.

Hate terrorizes our mortal hearts,

afraid of all the eternal bonds that it can't sever.

In the wind is a whisper of a forgotten name,

gifting our minds' ears with the echoes of the missing pieces.

Remembered from somewhere across the void,

it's so invisibly deep seeded.

Dreams turn to sand in our eyes

but did anyone ever make an hourglass out of one?

Not every sand castles built in the cove of slumber,

is completely washed from memory banks with the morning sun.