By the Moon.
Instead of the sun,
She lived by the moon.
She sang with the trees,
But in her own tune.
She danced to their music,
The song of the night.
She had yet to fly,
Though try it, she might.
She was one with the magic,
It lived in her veins.
It soared through her body,
It broke all her chains.
So wild at heart,
Yet nobody knew.
So when the sun rises,
Reality would too.
Opus.
There's something magical about it.
Creating something from nothing.
No sounds.
No colors.
No thoughts.
No feelings.
How boring, I think.
There must be music. Laughter. Screams and whispers.
There must be yellows and blues. Reds and greens.
Everything in between.
There must be ideas and plans.
Memories and words.
There must be love and hatred.
Happiness and sadness.
Everything in between.
This Opus shall be the most beautiful.
The most shattering thing that ever existed.
What is beauty without pain?
They will learn to smile, when they feel like crumbling.
They will learn to rise when they feel like falling.
Oh, but will they learn to live when they feel like dying?
How lovely it will be.