Nothing Beside Remains
Night falls, a form of darkness so intense
That good will crumbles. There is no defence:
The light dims, birds are falling from the skies,
Ice binds up hearts, truth is replaced by lies.
You offer platitudes as recompense
For love; woe is the only consequence.
Each day with you, a little something dies.
I know you well enough, I think, to say
That what you have to offer me is bland,
Empty of meaning, like a far-off land
Of broken statues and barren decay.
Yes, I despair, and now I'll fly away,
Whatever specious ramblings you've got planned.