Lost souls digging in the shadowed night
Weeping silently, their tear stain, red
Whose sight has closed to the stars above
Their tales all empty and bromidic
Bring them up once more to the skies
Where the eagles and the angels fly
Burn off the crusty scales of confabulation
Teach them to witness the miraculous
To find that which is buried deep
To flower, then shine, in who they really are to be
