So I’m waiting for a dusk soon due
When the red sun dims this part
When I’ll be able to embrace you
But now only in words and art
Whether projections of intent
Or records of an intense past
All of art is, to an extent,
A mating rite par excellence
So I’m walking to the dusk to face
The hope to meet you under moon
To revive you with this embrace
Now awaken from your swoon
For how long can I pretend
Guess what is making me shine
Reality can always be bent
Just consider, take your time