The Bottom Shelf Review

Candelabra burning in a twilight room,

Lowered eyes of dusky gloom.

A tired soul, looking on

For a feeling, forever gone.

The wind it rustles, the bells they chime,

For all the souls who were left behind.

The heart still beats, inside the grave,

For all the souls there were to save.

The willows sway, the old oak groans,

The wolves still howl, and the wind still moans.

Twilight breaks, the night grows cold,

Cajoling whispers, of things foretold.

Babylon has fallen, encumbered by gold,

The fruit is rotten, riddled with mold.

Daybreak dawns, morning unfolds,

Making new, what once was old.

Heaven sent, angel choir,

Pull me up, from the fire.

Prepare my path and make me true,

When I look in the mirror, I see you.