Out of Tyme In eldritch wood where shadows sigh, Betwixt the boughs where whispers lie, A tale of yore doth softly chime, Of souls entangled — out of tyme. The moonlight weaves a silver trace, Upon the ground, a dancing grace, As memories bloom, like blossoms prime, Eclipsed by fate — out of tyme. With every step, the past doth creep, Through twilight's hold, in silence deep, An echo calls, a spectral rhyme, That binds our hearts — out of tyme. The stars above in stillness blaze, Whilst time’s great hand doth twist and maze, Yet ’neath the veil, love’s bell may chime, Resounding sweet — out of tyme. So hark, ye souls that wander near, In whispered tales, let truth appear, For though we chase this fleeting clime, We find ourselves — out of tyme. In winding paths where shadows roam, Thy heart shall find its rightful home; For in each moment's fleeting mime, We live, we love — in tender tyme. {Out Of Tyme (A2a3b)}
