Within the torn books,
As old as the time
Lies an unveiled spell,
Vexing the barren souls.

Amidst this lost world,
Does it whisper its golden words,
Shining through the hazy air,
Those, who listens always finds their way.

And just with a touch of shredded phrases,
The once despaired sky will smile,
Will they see the moon listening to them
The once despaired sky will smile,
Looking the flowers bloom in joy
And listening the winds sing in rhythm,
Will they let the curse vex.

And when devoured to the last essence
Is when the glass will break,
Crushed into little pieces,
Perished to never be welded again.
There arises the dark foam,
Returning to the golden lines,  
But now to be blotted with red inks.
As the wood wails dews on lands.