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It falls softly as it tumbles...
Down from the sky darkly...
Deep in the heart of midnight.

Not a deity stirs at this moment out of time.
As young eyes stare into the void of an empty room. 
Something drifts across this face...

Something traces the soul. 
As the winds pick-up and rolls across this world. 
A television glows into the night. 
Like electric snow of eternal emptiness...

Burning into the inky sky. 
In to vacant rooms. 
A youth feels the hidden heart of the beast. 
White falls softly as it tumbles. 

Only clear moons glow as moans 
of lost saints quietly drop off, 
old gears of grandfather clocks. 

That are frozen on the eve of forever. 
Always on the precipice.

A child’s little feet cares 
it across the floor of a cavernous room. 
The house grows still. 

Nothing moves.

Until the wind like a unseen ocean surge's at its eves... 
then spills… the old wood grinds and groans.

A cold roof secretly talks. 
The walls whisper long ages of faded photographs. 
Shadows of branches clutch at forgotten maps.

The wind rushes the fragile glass. 
The silence is briefly broken by the crying wails 
of tormented moments of a thought. 
That bleeds from fractured glass...

And broken memories… broken n alone.
These things know nothing
but forever & the house. 

All the familiar faces, 
washed away by time. 
Families lost to forever…

Trying to brake through the grime. 
The child feels no one is home... 
From some where close or afar 
comes a quiet lonely sigh.

He begins to roam...
The halls of a great house...

Nothing.

Not even a mouse...breaks the still
Only noise finds the will...

Of this moment adrift in the spill of time
The house is afloat in a sea of nothing

The television crackles and hums. 
A smell of ozone. Only to its self knows it’s life!

A child feels the sin. The war of words aftermath.
The silence of forever more. The secrets within.

He can feel it blowing in the wind. 
As the leaves pick-up and spin...

In the cold blustering currents…
At the center is a wandering spirit.

Lost at this hour of deepest dreams...
He wills his thoughts to sleep.

A drift in this sea of desolation’s midnight snow
The soul is over come by isolation
Freezing the blood...
Like winter’s frost.

A youth crosses the threshold.
No turning back...not now'
Time will washes away all seconds of torment.

It falls softly as it tumbles...
Down from the sky darkly...
Deep in the heart of midnight.

Not a deity stirs at this moment out of time.
As young eyes stare into the void of an empty room. 
Something drifts across this face...

Something traces the soul. 
As the winds pick-up and rolls across this world. 
A television glows into the night. 
Like electric snow of eternal emptiness...

Crystals fall softly as it tumble and twirls.
Pilling high like the dunes of time.
At the epicenter of rebirth
Feeling midnight’s desolation's Snow,
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