As the Sun ends the day the presence of the fox
grows some say.
The creature acts as a brush as a hush falls over time. This artist paints the sky, waits before the core of his art to start the ritual. To spill his heart to she who he loves most.
He is quiet but through his eyes he sent what she meant to him. A perfect match. A direct path between life and dream. Hawks glide through the fox's two eyes as he cries tears of freedom towards his beautiful sky. "Oh why?", he pleads, "Can my life have meaning?" Isn't there someone who cares for me to share my soul with theirs? I cannot bare to be this scared and so my prayer, my only prayer blows in the air only to fade but nay my faith shall still remain so my heart can be unchained, free to love my sky above and relieve me of this pain from within.
He says goodbye one last time before she's taken by the night.
The creature acts as a brush as a hush falls over time. This artist paints the sky, waits before the core of his art to start the ritual. To spill his heart to she who he loves most.
He is quiet but through his eyes he sent what she meant to him. A perfect match. A direct path between life and dream. Hawks glide through the fox's two eyes as he cries tears of freedom towards his beautiful sky. "Oh why?", he pleads, "Can my life have meaning?" Isn't there someone who cares for me to share my soul with theirs? I cannot bare to be this scared and so my prayer, my only prayer blows in the air only to fade but nay my faith shall still remain so my heart can be unchained, free to love my sky above and relieve me of this pain from within.
He says goodbye one last time before she's taken by the night.
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