When the pitch of the night
Spreads its wings
Upon your weary heart
You only see darkness

When your nightingale
Can no more sing
The owl takes the part
All you hear is chaos

When the streets are deserted
Towns – estranged
Loneliness departs
Into utter ugliness

You see it coming toward you
Not so blunt as
The sun upon the snow
Yet full of brightness

You hear the chirpy familiar
Songs in his voice
Crafting their way into
Your divine utterance

In those towns and empty streets
He appears with a blissful
Dune – it’s his duty
To give you back your beauty