The magic that is mirrored in your eyes.
Yet only the fullness is celebrated
By lovesick fools and backwards-looking dreamers.
There is magic in the darkest of nights,
There is fullness in the cup overflowing,
And the wolves do not sing of love.
One second for the light
Of silent mountains and frozen seas
To reach behind your eyes,
And one second more
For the tear in mine to fall.
In the new moon.