Revisited Writing: Tides

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If one can unravel these delirious ramblings,
Illuminate the riddle,
Unearth the mystery of old—
These images, these trapped spirits of fleshless eternity
That linger just behind the eyes,
Just past bloodstained words,
A stumbling step into a half-forgotten dream:

Of fire and ash-choked wind,
Of tears falling into a blackened pool,
Of crystals that capture the eyes with stolen light.
The song that was carried on the wind.
The eternity-endless-black depths of a raven's eye
As it looked upon the broken angel in the snow.
Flight and fury and prismatic dance.
Dauntless time, empty time. Meaningless time.
Whispers in the night, caresses of dreams alive, living, dreaming.

Do you know? Do you understand?
Has the song awakened once more,
Within shells battered and barren,
Ceaselessly stumbling,
But housing That which Came Before,
And That which is Yet to Be?

What is the Tide bringing?
Why does the path seem so dark?
Destiny is Choice
Honesty with Fortitude,
With Heart,
With purity of soul,
Alchemy.

Does Love weave this song?