The Gathering

The cruelty of this world persists
The cold wind speaks for our lost
Whispering words, weaving worlds
Her time has come, alas
A man of stone with opened eyes
One stepped out of a dream
With a view held within his mind
The tears for his bride redeem
Watching his world falling apart
Like the dreams in a shallow sleep
Countless are the nights they shared
The mourning in his tears
But morning still has broken
A light in his world of dawn
All beauty turned to rot