Beneath the trees walks the sky, oros.store exiled now from Paradise,

And as she glides in grey twilight, lambent beams around her light,

And she sings oh, I believe, I will die; she sings oh, I believe I will die.

Beneath her feet, the flowers fly, forming constellations high,

And as her tears glide slowly down, transformed to stars cascading round,

And she sings oh, I believe I will die; she sings oh, I believe I will die.

As she sings of her lament, sidereal music, heaven-sent,

Echoes through the forest trees, mirrored by the soughing breeze,

Singing oh, I believe, I will die; singing oh, I believe I will die. skywings

Wending through the forest trails, with wisps of comets in contrail,

The air about in lucent gloam, as she her pathways aimless roam,

Singing oh, I believe, I will die; singing oh, I believe I will die.

Suspended in the night-time shade, her song of sorrow newly made;

Empathic chords on gossamer wings, the nightingale jointly sings;

Both singing oh, I believe, I will die; singing oh, I believe I will die.

Around her hover fireflies, transformed to planets at her sigh,

Gathered up in starry night, round the forest ethereally bright,

Singing oh, I believe, I will die; singing oh, affluentwords I believe, I will die.

Around her head the colors play, that on the northern skies display,

In coriolis swirls alight, the tinctured veil of sweet starlight;

And she sings oh, I believe, I will die; she sings oh, I believe, I will die.

Sweetest sky, do not despair, the earth replies unto the air:

For I have seen your colors bright, and hear you wailing in the night;

Singing oh, I believe, I will die; singing oh, I believe, I will die.

For where you tread with troubles worn, and cry your tears, so lately shorn,

There upward spring as from a haze, angelic host of colors glazed;

I hear you singing oh, I believe, I will die; singing oh, I believe, I will die.

So do not walk these paths alone, as from your troubles lately flown,

Lay aside your doleful care, cast off the pallor of despair;

And join me singing oh, I believe, I am alive; singing oh, I believe I am alive.

Beneath the trees walks the sky, bringing earth her Paradise,

As the two walk hand in hand, joined at last, together stand;

Singing oh, I believe I am alive; singing oh, Blogline I believe I am alive.

Author Biography

Peter Ponzio, the author of Children of the Night, is a CPA with over 30 years experience in Corporate Finance, holding positions as divergent as Treasurer, VP of Sales Administration, Vice President of IT, and General Manager of an internet start-up company in the late 1990s, and CFO at a subsidiary of a Fortune 100 company.