: Yearning for days of yore in elysian daydreams Burn with a fatal gloss a confounding mirror of souls Dance with the winterwinds in thy visions so sanguine
weak... Wan circling skies secretes... silvering sorrow Precious to me Aphelion Thou are the fields where we wither still Exhaust in thy waning world My Aphelion
Yearning for days of yore in elysian daydreams Burn with a fatal gloss a confounding mirror of souls Dance with the winterwinds in thy visions so sanguine
