Sparkatale

Tears

These that I have shed, drops of bitter honey.
For the souls that wander down the many
darkened paths of the forest floors of
the ancient ruins gone by.
Between the shades of Sunrise and
the glory of Sunset I see,
 the waves and ways chance between
a life lived and a life lost.
Time passes through the days and nights,
like the shifting sands of the old deserts
and the waves of a new sea. All blend into
the darkness of the passages, of tears and blood.
What else can I she for those lives?
The lives that are torn between the planes
of Sky and Earth?