In the night Faerie Queen
Showed us her tresses and danced through our dreams.
Told not a soul the Chevalier bold,
As he grew older than all the King’s soldiers.
Joy rose on fire from the funeral pyre,
Free as a bird that escaped the dark world.
White water rivers made stirring souls quiver;
Trees in the mistral of love’s mourning minstrel.
Silent with learning did Knights made their journey
To lands where the treasure was far beyond measure.
Light was the angel with eyes fixed on sunrise.
Cloak made of rain-clouds that raised up the death-shroud.
Beautiful, lethal, the Nephilim’s sequel
Returned through the sight that could penetrate night.