We can now see the black mist,
swirling and curling down there.
The trees they are quiet as death,
but those who run there we can hear.
Three figures I see in a dance,
though one dances all on his own.
A story is here, of that there’s no doubt,
so let us take it down from the shelf.
There was a one who had a love,
young and foolish he was naive,
To how the world turns round and round,
and how from pain there’s no reprieve.
Unwisely he gave of his trust,
no one asked him and yet he gave.
In exchange for that gift he received only loss,
for she stood alone looking not for a save.
When once such trust is broken,
and such hopes and dreams are crushed,
What man can stand alone in that,
his joyous cries now hushed.
The pain is strong, and stronger still
– he fails to hold back his tears.
When this veil is torn in two,
hidden sin shall be made clear.
Thief and liar shall be known to all,
the outcast shall not cease to mourn,
False beauty reveal the death inside
– his heart shall indeed be torn.
Looking on in helpless state,
direction they do lack.
Enveloped in confusion go,
they stumble in the black.
Waiting for salvation,
that may not ever come.
For life and death are the only paths,
and from this choice they cannot run.
Decision laid before them now,
they must not linger – they must decide.
Whether for good, or whether for ill,
he cannot bear this and longs to hide.
Stand firm and look on here he must,
watching unfold this dark play in his life.
Though try he did to fix it himself,
received as reward in his back, a knife.
So distanced now he remains aloof,
though as much as he’d wish to – truly he’s not.
He stands and looks on in pain now,
for her being gone is his lot.
Overcome he must as she dances,
in the arms of that other one there.
All he must do is to trust,
and concern himself not with what’s fair.
And maybe one day she will see,
all that he had tried to do.
Those dark mists swirl around and around,
and through the trees there dances now,
only two . . .