Something stirs and resettles,
And we see our torment in the cast off light from the world beyond our own -
Electric everywhere.
Red rocks and the crescent moon,
And something so simple
Leaves us breathless and aching -
A promise long abandoned at the corner of your memory.
How did we ever think we could stop?
A chill runs up a spine -
Ragged and desperate,
And it aches like a chill settling in bruised bones.
Reverent tongues and stolen time -
And still so oddly quiet.
The moon climbs higher, and we feel every bit of distance between us.
We want to know all the things no one else does, and all the needful things we\'ll die without.
But that has no place here,
And we are not creatures of faith.
We close our eyes and commit this to memory.
The night is young, and so are we.